


Daughter of Stars and Stones

by IngvildSchage



Series: What Happens Next [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: AU, Coming of Age, Drama, Dwarves, Elves, Erebor, Everybody Lives, Friends to Lovers, Life after the hobbit, Multi, Romance, The Lonely Mountain, dwelf, teenage angst, teenage romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 88,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IngvildSchage/pseuds/IngvildSchage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the sequel to "An Unexpected Visit". </p><p>Kíliel is the daughter of the dwarf Kíli and the elf Tauriel, and as a dwelf she struggles to get accepted. This is the story of how she grows up to become the future queen of Erebor, of which not all dwarves are supportive. There will be a lot of drama, stubborn dwarves, and a love triangle between Kiliel, Kiliel's betrothed Thekk, a slightly manipulative third dwarfling, and the elf Kiliel has always dreamed about; Legolas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hair Pin

He was here.

She ran through the corridors, over the bridge and past the grand halls of the underground city. Many of its inhabitants looked after her with surprise as she passed them hastily on the pathways. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest as she breathed harder of the effort, but her eagerness was high and the adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her uncontrollable and tangled hair flew behind her, as did her dress, and she felt like she was flying through the halls surrounded by stone.

He had actually come, like she had dreamed of for so many years.

Her grin was wide as she came to an abrupt stop at the last corner to the Throne Hall, right behind the archway. Her chest heaved as she fought for her breath to come calmly. It was not easy. Suddenly she heard voices echoed, and her breathing came to a sharp stop. She needed to know if it truly was him. She held her breath as she leaned against the cold stone and listened to whomever was in the throne hall just around the corner from where she stood. She heard the footsteps of two echo through the hall.

«It is a pleasure to see you again, Nín gwador.» It was the voice of her mother. The girl stood quietly, hidden behind the corner, waiting for him to answer. She so yearned to hear his voice.

«Yes, it is good to be back. I have missed you.» The girl's breath caught in her throat as she heard the deep voice of a man. «I regret it's been so long. Will you forgive me? Too much is going on for me to explain to you now. I've been north, in the pursuit of a ranger. That is all I can say.»

The young girl grinned widely as she listened, not caring for his words, only the sound of his voice. It was as if he had come from a distant dream, and he would take her on adventures, far away from these halls where she had spent her entire life. That always happened in her dreams.

«But tell me now, how are you, Tauriel? I want to hear all about your life since last we met. And how is the little one?» The man talked enthusiastically. It was clear he enjoyed spending time with her mother. And at the mention of «the little one» her eyes went wide and she stopped breathing. She knew it was her he meant. She bit her lip. She knew it was a terribly bad manner to eavesdrop, but she cared not. All she wanted was to listen to him, to Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood, whom she hadn't seen for many years, but always dreamed of.

Tauriel spoke then: «I am well and happy with Kíli. I have adjusted to the life in this kingdom and I see the value of living under the mountain, more so than I could possibly have imagined I would. He has made me a home here as he promised. As for Kíliel…,» her mother stopped, and Kíliel's excitement died suddenly. The tone of her mother's voice had been concerned, and it kept echoing her name throughout the hall. It was a sad sound.

«It is difficult. She is beautiful and clever, and I am of course so very proud of her, but I fear we are not prepared for raising her. I love my daughter with all my heart, I could not have asked for a more special child, but I fear that will be our downfall. She is young, only twenty-seven years old, but so much more mature than any elf at that age, and yet not as mature as a dwarf would have been. Kíli and I… we do not properly comprehend the changes in her, and I do not know what to expect.» Tauriel sighed, as did Kíliel, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. She put her arms around her knees and hid her face against them.

She knew this already. She had listened to her parents talk of it many times, especially over the last year. It filled her with a cold darkness. She was afraid, and she felt so alone in it all sometimes. As her mother said; they did not understand her. Who could understand? She was different, and it scared her parents. She knew it.

The coldness in her was blown away by a soft laugh. It came from Legolas. «Oh, Tauriel. Once you would fight orcs with joy and excitement, I would never have thought you to lose your spirit over anything, least not the thought of your daughter growing up. You sound like a true mother. Do not fear, for she will grown to be as beautiful and sharp as you. Even as a babe she was full of spirit, have you already forgotten?» Kíliel felt calmness come over her from the words. Legolas understood, of course he did.

«You are right, of course, my friend. I love her so much, and I fear I will do something wrong. Remember I never had a mother; I do not know what a mother does. Luckily I have Dís to help me. She is a remarkable dwarf, and a loving grandmother to Kíliel.» Legolas' soft laugh echoed in the hall again. He must have liked her mother's enthusiasm. «Oh, Legolas, I am so happy here. Almost everyone of the people have accepted me, even some of the most stubborn council members. And Thorin is… so full of love. Right from the start it was so clear how much she meant to him. He is even teaching her the harp.»

It was true, and Kíliel loved the sessions with her grandfather. He was strict, but patient with her, and if she made a mistake he would not scowl or punish her, rather urge her to try again and improve her skill. She was taking to the harp, and lately it was all she could do to calm herself during her moments of fright and uncertainty. She had a restlessness in her, one her mother had told her she had when she was the same age, yet Kíliel could sit calmly with the harp for hours without getting anxious. It felt right to her, like all the world would quiet down and listen to her when she played.

«Once I would never have dared to dream of this easy happiness we have here. It serves me right to worry over something so unproblematic and inevitable. I only wish you would come and stay with us.» Tauriel spoke, her voice almost pleading.

«You know I cannot, though it would've calmed me to stay here a while. Maybe I shall, but I cannot promise anything. There is much stirring in the world these days, and I must also return to my kingdom. Father expects me back this month.» There was a pause. «And you needn't worry, he does not know anything about you or your daughter. I have made sure of it. Though how much longer we can keep him in the dark I do not know.»

Kíliel exhaled, her heart filled with eagerness to speak with him, but it could not be now. They should not know she had been listening. She might be young, but as much she understood. Adults never wanted her to listen to their conversations when they spoke of their important matters. She did not care for their matters anyway, though they would not listen when she tried to explain.

At that exact moment she heard someone clear their throat behind her, and she shrank, knowing she had been caught. This was bad.

«Lady Kíliel.» She turned slowly around to face he who had caught her. There stood her uncle, Fíli, his crooked smile and raised eyebrow indicated his surprise and amusement. «What are you hiding out here from, lass?» He laid a big hand on her shoulder as he spoke, and looked around to see whom she might be hiding from.

«Nothing,» she said quietly and looked away. Her heart was beating hard, for surely they would have heard them by now. And she was right.

«Who's there?» Tauriel's voice bore throughout the hall, and Fíli dragged Kíliel along around the corner, through the archway to face her mother and their visitor. She stood eyeing the black, tiled floor. Her little face was clearly reflected in the floor, and Kíliel could see the red burn in her cheek as she stood before Legolas and her mother. She would not meet his gaze. It was all wrong.

«Good day, Tauriel. Welcome back, Legolas,» Fíli greeted them, and nodded friendly to Legolas who returned the gesture.

«Fíli, and… Kíliel! What are you two doing here?» Tauriel did not sound cross or worried. Her voice was gleeful, as she was only surprised.

Kíliel still refused to look up, even partly hidden behind her uncle she felt exposed to the sharp eyes of Legolas. She had yearned to be in his presence all day, and now that it happened she felt small and frightened, like he could see straight through her, like he could see that she had dreamed about him for so long.

«I found the little lass hiding behind the archway. I do not know how long she's been standing there, but I'm sure it was only curiosity. Me and my brother, we were just the same at her age.» Fíli laughed and squeezed her shoulder lightly, as if saying it was no big offence, and she needn't fear for punishment. Though they would never really punish her for anything. She was a fairly well behaved girl, though Fíli thought she acted strangely now. She was rarely shy, especially around her family. So Legolas must have been the reason for her silence and clinging to his tunic. She was small, reaching barely above his waist, so hiding behind him was no hard task.

Fíli tried to push her forward. There was no reason to hide from friendly faces, for Legolas was no enemy of theirs. «Come now. Will you not welcome Legolas into our kingdom, little princess?»

«Darling, Kíliel,» Tauriel began, her voice had the soft, motherly tone to it. Kíliel rose her gaze quickly to see the warm face of her mother smile at her. She held out her arm out, urging Kíliel to come to her, still the girl hesitated, and stared at the floor again.

Tauriel looked at Legolas with a surprised expression. «I do not know what has come over her. She is usually so friendly.»

But Legolas simply smiled and shrugged. «She has not seen me for many years, let's not blame the girl. I would not expect her to recognize me.» His voice was kind as he carefully eyed Kíliel, though he kept his distance. He was curious as well, but saw that the girl was like a frightened animal, and knew that she would not forgive him if he made the first advance.

The last time he had seen her was five years after her birth, twenty-two years ago. She had been but a little babe at the time, though running and talking and singing, he could not believe that she would recognize him.

«I do recognize you,» Kíliel suddenly muttered into Fíli's tunic, as if answering his thought, and all eyes turned to her.

«Do you, now?» Legolas said, and sat down on his left knee to match her height.

Kíliel nodded her head stubbornly, her small mouth in a pout and her eyes moving back and forth between the floor and her mother's face. She stole a glance of his fair face, then hid hers in Fíli's clothes. She felt the warmth fill her again, and she breathed shallowly of the excitement.

They laughed at her, but she did not mind for it was the kind of laughter grownups used when they thought she was cute. She knew that much, and she knew how to use it to her advantage.

«Well, I remember you, Princess Kíliel. And am I correct in saying that it is your birthday today?» Legolas coaxed her, to try and make her warm to him, knowing little of what was actually going on inside her head.

«You are, Prince… Legolas,» Kíliel slowly murmured, and speaking his name made her shiver slightly. She smiled cleverly. They all laughed again.

«Well then, I want you to have this, because I have no other gift to offer you, and I owe you nothing less.» He pulled out of his pocket a little silver hair pin with tiny branches and red leaves expanding from the top. It had rubies at the centre of each leaf and it shone beautifully in the morning light. He held it out for her to take. «It belonged to my mother, so take great care of it.»

Kíliel gasped and met his gaze suddenly, to make sure it was truly given to her. Then she reached out her arm and took carefully the pin out of his hand. Her fingers touched his palm as she took it, and again she felt the warmth spread within her. She smiled and looked down on the thing that filled her hand, but had been so small in his. It was heavy and she knew the importance that filled it.

She looked at Legolas again and then bowed deeply, like her father had taught her. «Thank you, my prince. Will you put it on?» She asked eagerly and turned her back to him.

Legolas smiled and tilted his head slightly. He was surprised at this sudden change.

Tauriel laughed and walked to embrace her daughter. «I am sure we can do that later, starlight, right now I think we should return to our chambers and prepare for the big feast tonight.»

«It will only take a moment,» Legolas said, and took the pin from Kíliel. With quick and easy hands he untangled her hair best as he could, collected some of the hair hanging loose on either side of her face and fashioned two twisted braids. He fastened them on the back of her head with the pin.

«There you see. Beautiful like the queen you are.» Legolas winked at her, and stood up. Her eyes followed his face all the way, and she would not stop looking at him before her mother whisked her off to ready themselves for the party later that evening.

As Kíliel moved she felt the weight of the pin, but it was securely fastened and stayed in place the entire day and night, even with dancing and constant movement. It was one of the best gifts she had ever received, and only because it was from him, and because he had fashioned her hair in a way he had deemed worthy of a queen.

Kíliel laid on her side in the bed and beheld the pin. It had been many years since that day. She remembered every feeling and emotion when he had looked at her.

Thirty years had passed.

Yet she felt the warmth fill her every limb at remembering the night. He had been sitting on the table next to her parents as she sat on the opposite side, next to her uncle, and they had talked all night about important, grownup matters that she could not recall. But she had gazed at his eyes the entire night, and every once in a while he had met her gaze, winked at her, and then continued the conversation. She felt a tingle as she thought about it. That gaze of cool, blue eyes and the smile that promised safety and love. It had ended abruptly. He had left the next day, apologising for his short visit, and he had promised to return in not too long.

She grinned bitterly at the memory, for of course weren't forty years anything to reckon in the long life of an elf, a true elf. Had she only been a true elf, or dwarf. There was nothing good about being half. It was rough and lonely.

When she had first reached adolescence neither her dry-nurse nor her mother had been to any help. Tauriel had kept insisting that it was too early to even begin thinking of the change in her body, yet the dry-nurse, a middle-aged dwarf with warm, red cheeks and soft hands, with the name of Náli, had urged that it was long overdue. Both arguing if she was late or early had not eased her confusion and fear, rather made it worse.

When she had her first bleed, she had tried to keep it to herself, for she felt ashamed of being the center of attention and discussion. It was like they experimented on her and observed her like a rare animal they had to learn more about. They urged her to speak of all that happened to her body and mind, but Kíliel didn't want to speak of any of it. She just wanted the pains in her breasts, the cramps in her stomach, and the stretch marks on her hips to go away.

Once she was nauseous for a whole month, and no one knew what to do about it. They had given her all the herbs and the tonics they could think of, yet nothing had helped. She then learned to stop mentioning any discomfort or pains she felt, as they usually all passed, and did nothing but frighten her mother and cause Náli to examine her body for the thousand time.

It was her fortieth year it had all began, and she had been mortified. With the other adolescent dwarves she felt like a child, changing much later than all of those her own age, and when she finally began to grow she grew taller than most of them in only a year. It had been a problematic time. She had kept mostly to herself, spending the time playing the harp and eating only with her mother and father when she could be spared the official businesses expected of her as a princess.

She felt she was in the way all the time, being everyone's problem, and yet being too important to leave out. She was, after all, future queen of Erebor, and that entailed many hours of lessons she would've been without. Every dull lesson she had to endure, every strict dwarven council-member who would talk for hours about some or other business she had to know about, but was utterly unnecessary and boring. The only lessons she tolerated were those with her uncle, for Fíli was more patient with her and spoke with a passion none of the other teachers did. And of course she treasured the lessons with her grandfather. He would talk about some matter she would have to understand when being a ruler, while she played the harp. Sometimes they would sit for hours without even noticing the time passing.

But always did she dream of Legolas. He lingered in the back of her thoughts, and she found strange comfort in the memory of him, of the night of her birthday, of his eyes. She did not know if it was because he was the only other elf she knew except her mother, or Tauriel's loving words of him when she spoke of her youth, or some other reason. He was always with her.

Kíliel exhaled heavily. She grasped the pin he had given her, stroking the hard, yet delicate metalwork with her fingers. Today was her fifty-seventh birthday, and still she felt just as lost as the young girl eavesdropping, thirty years ago. She was the heir, but she knew that many of her people did not support her right; she was misunderstood by both her kin and with no one to understand her feelings; she did not even know if she could reproduce, and therefore secure an heir of her own; and to make matters worse - the only person she had ever longed for was an elf she had met twice in her childhood.

She scoffed. How could she be so pathetic and still be the future Queen of Erebor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translator: Nín gwador = My brother
> 
> I also think it is very important to say that as I imagine it from what I've read, elves use roughly 100 years to age, and dwarves use roughly 50, so I imagine that Kíliel age 3,5 times slower than humans, quicker than elves but slower than dwarves, so that when she is 27 she is actually a mental age of about 7. And when she is 75 she is 21. I hope you understand what I mean! ^^
> 
> Wow this idea made me productive. I wrote this mainly last night, and I have to say I really have fallen for this story. This is only a pilot, so do tell me what you think. I am eager for this fanfic, so i hope you are too!^^'
> 
> I am yet not done with my other fanfic An Unexpected Visit I am only gathering inspiration to finish it! ;) I promise you it will be finished soon! You have all been so patient, and I appreciate everything you have said to inspire and keep me going! I would never have managed without your support!


	2. Children Will Be Children

«Mother, must we wait much longer?» Kíliel asked her mother impatiently.

They stood in the Grand Hall in front of the main gate, among the rest of the royals, the council-members and their families. The rest of their people stood about them, scattered throughout the hall. The sun stood just above the plains, and the morning light washed the grand room with warm, yellow light.

There was murmuring and low talking all around the hall, for they had been waiting for over an hour and even the most patient dwarves thought they had waited long enough. Though proud and loyal, dwarves did not like to be kept waiting even by their dearest friends.

«We have been standing here for so long now,» Kíliel continued to urge her mother, and pulled her sleeve restlessly. She was uncomfortable, wearing shoes and clothes that were too tight and too formal for any normal visit from their kin. She knew there was something special about this day, but it made her feet ache no less to run away from this place. Kíliel did not enjoy standing still for too long.

«Kíliel, you are thirty-three, and no longer a child. You have to learn to be patient.» Tauriel said, her voice just stern enough for Kíliel to press her lips together and straighten her back as she stood beside her mother and father. Thorin stood right before them, his gaze patient, yet brooding. Kíliel had expected him to turn around and smile at her as he always did when she was being impatient, but not today. She felt uneasy because of it. Beside him to the right stood her uncle Fíli, and on the left her father and then herself and her mother.

«What do you think keeps them?» Fíli asked Thorin, who mumbled something in reply that Kíliel could not make out. She was restless, her fingers tingling with a strange feeling. Something was not right, and everyone around her knew it. But why would no one speak of it?

Kíliel looked at her mother who had an unusually hard expression, her lips pressed together and eyes locked on the gate. The hand holding Kíliel's was grasping a little bit too hard, but the girl dared not speak of it. Instead she eyed her father who stood at the other side of her, and he met her gaze with soft eyes.

«They will be here any minute now.» Kíli smiled and put a hand around his daughter's shoulders. His gaze was kind, yet there was something different about his eyes. Kíliel thought it had something to do with what she had heard earlier that morning.

She had been roused of her sleep by the sound of angry voices in the next chamber. She was instantly worried, for this was no usual sound to her ears. Her parents were arguing, something Kíliel had never heard before. Crawling out of bed, she tiptoed over the floor to stand by the door. She wasn't afraid, more curious as to what could cause this.

She heard her mother's voice clear and sharp as glass through the wooden door. «That is not the elven way! You cannot expect me to allow this.»

Her father answered, his voice more controlled, though sad: «We are not in Mirkwood, Tauriel, and the elven way is much different from the dwarvish. He is the King, we must obey his command, that is the law.»

«Do you mean that we should only stand by and let them do it? I cannot do that, Kíli, not without betraying myself.» Her voice was so full of pain, Kíliel felt it like a cut to her skin.

«I know, my love. But please, can you trust me for now? I will not let them do anything without our consent, but you have to consider the possibility.» Kíli spoke softly, trying to calm his wife of her troubles. Kíliel wondered what it was all about, what could've made her mother react in this way? She was usually so warm and kind.

«Kíli, she is our daughter, even if she is their heir, they cannot do with her as they please. You could have given me a lifetime to decide, my answer would be the same. I do not allow it!» Tauriel's voice was so full of despair, Kíliel was afraid her mother was crying, but opening the door barely she saw them embracing. Tauriel sat on her dressing chair, her face contorted with worry and fear. Kíli stood behind, with his arms securely around her, soothing his wife, whispering softly in her ear. «I know, my love, but there is a limit to my favor with Thorin. For now we must wait and see what he chooses to do.»

And now they stood waiting for some guests to arrive. Kíliel didn't truly understand the conversation she'd overheard this morning, and the sudden news of the arrival of new dwarves made her uneasy. She understood it had something to do with her, but when they had come to prepare her for the gathering they hadn't spoken about it, and she bit her lip not to ask. She was often eavesdropping on their conversations, but she had learned early that they did not appreciate hearing about it after. So she had kept her silence and done as they had asked.

«Who are coming again, father?» She asked, her voice as quiet as she could manage. She wanted to show her mother that she could behave, and knowing she was upset about something made it so much more important not to bother her further.

Kíli was silent for a moment before he answered. «My cousin and his family are coming from the Blue Mountains to stay with us for a while.» He smiled at her reassuringly. «They are our kin, so I expect you to be on your best behavior.»

«Am I not always?» she said teasingly and raised her head to look majestic, even if she still was much smaller than him. Kíli smiled and bent down to kiss the top of her head.

His smile stiffened as he looked at Tauriel, and took her hand behind their daughters back. Tauriel didn't meet his gaze, but squeezed his hand, and Kíli felt the nerves as her hand shook lightly. He exhaled heavily, feeling the weight of it all on his shoulders.

At that moment the welcoming horn was blown, echoing throughout the mountain, and excited chatter rose among the people of Erebor. Their guests had arrived and their wait was over. It was not unusual with royal visits in the mountain, but they were nevertheless appropriately welcomed by the King and all his people.

It was a small party, with scarcely twenty guards on ponies, bearing arms and armor of Ered Luin, and amongst them came two carriages. They came to a stop and out of the first one came a great dwarf, followed by his family. He laughed as he stepped out and walked towards Thorin, his arms extended, and he roared. «By my beard; Thorin Oakenshield!» His voice echoed through the hall with his laughter.

Thorin moved to welcome him, and Fíli, Kíliel and her parents were not far behind.

«Welcome Dárin, son of Fárin, to Erebor!» Thorin greeted his kin, putting his hands on his shoulders, both of their laughters echoed. Fárin was Thorin's own cousin, who had passed away on a boar hunt many winters ago. Fárin was the first son of Freer who, again, was the son of Fror, Thror's second brother. They had shared their living quarters in Ered Luin, though had not seen each other since the quest for Erebor took place. The reunion was long anticipated.

Dárin bowed his head in respect for his king, his grin replaced by a humble smile. «I was honored by the invitation. I hope we will do good business together, my King.» He was just as big as Thorin, though younger, with long brown hair, and a beard with detailed and bejeweled braids. He bore the signature blue coat and cape of Ered Luin.

Kíliel noticed her mother's grasp harden on her hand. She felt Tauriel's nerves as a grip around her throat, so strong were her mother's feelings transferring to her. It made her no less uneasy, and she racked her brain to think of some reason her mother would fear this dwarf coming to visit them. She could think of none. It made no sense to her.

Dárin moved from Thorin to greet his cousins, Fíli and Kíli. They all embraced, laughing and clapped each other's backs like they were all young lads again. Kíliel knew they had lived together in the Blue Mountains when they were young, so it was perhaps not so strange.

Lastly Dárin came to Tauriel, who stood stiff, her mouth pressed to a line. She had laid her arms securely around her daughter's shoulders. Dárin looked at Tauriel, his gaze somewhat cautious, then he smiled widely and took her hand. He kissed it and spoke warmly: «Lady Tauriel, I am honored to finally meet you. Your legendary marriage with my cousin is much spoken of and rumors of your beauty is widely spread amongst our people.»

Kíliel turned to see her mother's expression at the grand words. Tauriel managed an honored smile and a soft bow of her head, and replied: «I am flattered by your kind words, my lord. It is good to have you with us.»

Dárin seemed pleased with her respond and nodded his head respectfully. Then he laid his eyes on Kíliel and he laughed delighted. «Now, is this the little lass I've heard so much about?»

«I'm Kíliel, at your service, my lord,» she said and bowed for the dwarf, just as she'd learned from her uncle. Dárin clapped his hands and bowed down to her level. His face was kind, though Kíliel couldn't help but feel the emotions of her mother mother through her hands that were still laid on Kíliel's shoulders. Tauriel was truly nervous.

«Well, aren't you a special, little lady? Not much older than my own son, I am told.» The dwarf leaned his hands on his hips as he straightened his back and looked at her with a clever smile. He then called: «Thekk! Come here, son!» and from amongst the dwarven travel party came a boy running to his father's voice.

He had wild, curly brown hair like his father, his eyes full of mischief and curiosity. He was wearing a similar coat to his father's, only smaller and dirtier. He was but an inch taller than Kíliel, as he stood in front of her.

«Thekk, m'lady, at your service.» He said and bowed before her, though the movement was rushed and without precision. The boy spoke through his nose, and Kíliel didn't much care for his attitude either.

«I'm Kíliel. I'm pleased to welcome you to our home.» She said, though her expression was skeptical as she eyed this boy she undoubtedly would have to make friends with. Kíliel knew the importance of welcoming their guests properly, especially since they were their own kin. And she knew her grandfather, uncle and parents would expect her to be on her best behavior. She exhaled at the thought of entertaining this shaggy boy.

«Strange-looking, aren't 'ya? What's wrong with 'cha ear?» Thekk suddenly exclaimed, then leaned in and touched the end of her left ear. Kíliel tried to back away from him, but was caught by her mother's legs as Tauriel stood right behind her. She didn't want him to touch her, with fingers covered in dried mud and other dirts.

«I think that's enough for the greetings. I'm sure all would like to settle down and ready themselves before the feast.» Tauriel suggested and dragged Kíliel with her, towards Kíli, away from Dárin and his son. She took his arm as he was in the midst of greeting Dárin's wife, who was carrying a young babe. It was only the four of them that had come, and it surprised Kíliel. Always when they entertained royal dwarves there were usually so many more coming in the companies, but she was honestly glad there were no more like Thekk to meet amongst them.

Éira, mother of Thekk and wife of Dárin was tired and glad of Tauriel's words, for it was not many moons since the birth of her babe. She took Tauriel's arm as they left to show them the chambers made ready for them.

«Let us be friends, and let the lads go about their business.» She whispered, and patted Tauriel's arm. It was like she saw the trouble in her eyes and wanted to help. The elf was surprised, but kept her silence. She dared not speak for fear that she would get angry again. So all she did was smile as she walked, with Kíliel at one side and Éira at the other.

Beside Éira walked Thekk, and Kíliel caught him staring at her many times as they followed them down into the mountain. Kíliel sighed, and wished their visit would be over quickly.

* * *

It wasn't.

They stayed for weeks, then months, and suddenly, without Kíliel even noticing, they had settled down in the mountain. It bothered her, for Thekk was always taunting and picking on her. He seemed to have no manners of any kind, and would always find an excuse to touch her with his dirty fingers. He would follow her around and take no hint that she wanted to be left alone. Thekk was in every way the worst boy she had ever known, though there weren't many her own age in the mountain.

One day, a year after their arrival, there was supper time in the dining hall for the living quarters of the South Halls, and as Kíliel was eating her stew, minding her own business, Thekk came and sat across from her on the table.

There was no seating arrangements in the dining hall, other than the head table that was reserved for the King and his advisors. Kíliel usually sat in the lower end of the room, with her mother and father, but right now they were somewhere else. It didn't bother her, she liked eating alone. It gave her time to think.

It was then that Thekk came and threw his bowl of stew down on the table so almost all of it spilled over her. Kíliel scoffed and rolled her eyes. There had been little change in her opinion of him over the last year.

«Can I sit 'ere?» He asked, though she wondered why. He had already settled in the seat and was slurping his stew loudly. Kíliel shrugged and pretended not to care while she looked at her bowl and ate quietly.

«What'ca doin'?» Thekk asked with his mouth full and peered at her with his big, brown eyes that grown-up thought were charming. Kíliel looked at him with annoyed eyes, and then lowered her gaze again. She picked at a piece of pork floating in the stew before she ate it and chewed roughly. Her patience with him was wearing thin.

«Not much of a talker, ey?» He grinned and she saw pieces of stew between his teeth. She rolled her eyes again and tried to finish her food so that she would have an excuse to leave. «Ain't gonna be any good, 'ya know, if you're this quiet all the time.» Kíliel's eyes flashed to his. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

«What do you mean?» She asked finally, as she was having enough of his stupid talk.

«Our marriage, of course! What 'cha think I was talking of?»

Kíliel scoffed and rolled her eyes. «You must be stupid or something. I won't ever marry you!» She laughed and looked at him with disbelieving eyes.

«It's not like you have a say in it. They've arranged it. Everyone knows. Now who's stupid?» Kíliel's laugh stuck in her throat and she wrinkled her brows.

«I don't believe you.» She spat at him and was about to get up and leave.

«My father said it. Do you call him a liar?» Thekk suddenly rose, his hands in fists as if he was trying to look intimidating.

«I call you a liar!» Kíliel exclaimed and turned her back to him.

«Fine with me. I wouldn't marry you, anyway. You're not even a real dwarf!» Thekk called after her, and Kíliel froze. No one had ever said that to her, even if she had thought it many times to herself. It was much worse to hear it from the lips of that nasal boy.

She let her bowl fall to floor where it broke into a thousand pieces, then she clenched her fists, turned around, took one step onto the stool she had been sitting on and flew over the table, into Thekk so hard his stool and them both crashed to the floor. She sat on his chest and hit him hard in the face as he fought to get her off him, ripping her shirt. She was lighter and weaker than him and he easily threw her off him after the immediate shock had passed over him. He punched her on the brow and she cried out.

It was quickly stopped, for Fíli, who had been eating at the King's table with some council-men had seen and heard their whole confrontation. He rushed from the table as he heard what Thekk had called Kíliel but it was a big room and it had taken him too long to get over there. Now he grabbed both in the arm and hauled them off each other. «Kíliel! Thekk! Stop this immediately!»

Kíliel stopped fighting the minute she was grabbed by the arm. She had never heard her uncle speak to her with such anger and tears immediately filled her eyes. She hadn't meant to attack Thekk, she had only been so angry. It was all gone now and instead she was filled with fear and pain; fear for what the consequences of her actions would be and pain for the throbbing spot above her eye where he had hit her. Thekk was still angry, but didn't struggle further either. Fíli was much bigger than him and it wasn't like he usually fought with girls, only if they hit him first.

At that moment Thorin and Dárin entered the hall while discussing some matter, and seeing Fíli stand with both children in his grip they were both alarmed. «What's happening here?» Thorin called, his voice demanding with the usual kingly might.

«The young were fighting, my King!» Fíli said, his voice somewhere between harsh and uncertain. He didn't exactly know how to explain to Thorin the reason for their fight, not in such a public place anyway.

«What?» Both Thorin and Dárin exclaimed and looked at the children with disbelieving eyes. Thekk had a bloody nose and a bruise on his cheekbone, while Kíliel had a cut right above her left eye that was staring to swell.

«What is the meaning of this?» Dárin said and took Thekk roughly by the arm, as Fíli let go.

«Kíliel, are you alright?» Thorin sat down on his knee in front of Kíliel and looked at her cut. «It doesn't seem to be too bad an injury, though we should have it checked just to be certain.» He caressed her hair for a moment, then looked at her with kind but worried eyes. Kíliel felt a tear leave her eye as she felt the guilt ache in her belly. Her lips were pressed together as she met his eyes.

«She started it!» Thekk suddenly exclaimed. «I did nothing! I only mentioned us getting married, and she went at me!»

Thorin and Dárin exchanged looks for a moment.

«There might have been more to it than that, my lords,» Fíli suggested, his gaze worried as he eyed Kíliel, and Thorin understood.

«Take your son, Dárin. There's no bad blood to come between us on this day. Children fight, let it be with that,» Thorin spoke determinedly, yet his eyes were worried as he watched his granddaughter.

* * *

Tauriel was furious at the news. Fíli told them all what he had heard, as they were all gathered in Kíli and Tauriel's chambers. Kíliel sat on her father's lap, wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, yet her body shook of Thekk's hatefull words. They had applied some ointments to her cut, and she could hardly feel it any longer, it was not what pained her. Tauriel stood behind them, her hands anxiously caressing her hair. Thorin sat in Kíli's arm-chair, with Dís and Fíli standing around the table. They were in the living-room of the chambers Kíli had built his wife after their marriage, as was costume for husbands in Erebor.

«I have spoken of my reluctance already. Do you now see what this arrangement have caused? My poor Starlight,» Tauriel said all but the last in an angry tone. She leaned down to kiss Kíliel's head and then turned to Thorin again as he spoke.

«It is not in your place to question my decisions, Tauriel.» Thorin spoke, his voice leveled and toughtful.

«It is in my place when your decissions cause my daughter pain!» Tauriel suddenly snapped, and then lowered her head in instant regret. She touched her hand to her mouth and turned away from Thorin again. Her anger was fierce, and it frightened her. She knew she should control herself, but she could not remain silent after what had happened.

«I could not have foreseen this.» Thorin growled, his voice tired and annoyed. «I would never do anything to cause her suffering.» He rubbed his head and exhaled. He was not pleased with the days happenings any more than her, but they had to act cautiously. The alliance with Dárin was important, for them all, but Tauriel only saw what was best for her daughter.

«You said nothing was decided, you said it would all be cleared before we would let her know!» She snapped through clenched teeth, standing still with her back to him. It was dangerous to oppose the King like she did, but she trusted him, and she had learned how to discuss with him over the years.

«None of us could have known what the boy was to do or say.» Fíli objected. Tauriel looked at him with sad eyes.

«Children say what their parents tell them. Both about the marriage and…,» Tauriel paused and took a deep breath. «How else would the boy have known? He is a child!» Kíliel peered up at her mother over her father's shoulder. Tauriel's eyes were full of concern and sadness as she met her daughter's gaze.

Tears filled Kíliel's eyes, and she buried her face in Kíli's neck. His familiar scent calmed her. He rocked her softly and stroke her wild hair. He was both angry and sad for what had happened, but recognised his need to stay calm to ease his daughter. Nothing was worse than seeing his girl hurt by such hateful words.

«Children speak of many things they do not understand. I'm sure he meant nothing by it.» Fíli tried to ease the tension, but Tauriel looked at him with fire in her eyes as she felt it stir in her again. Dís walked to embrace Tauriel, and the elf leaned towards the dwarf's calming touch, trying to ease the anger in her. The dwarf Tauriel called «mother» always managed to soothe her, only by touch.

«Children will be children, Tauriel. There is nothing we can do about that.» Dís said, patting her arm gently. «But I agree, we cannot let it go on like this. First of all, Kíliel must be told the truth.»

«She is but a child, it is too early…» Tauriel tried to object and turned to the King with a desperate expression, but Thorin nodded in agreement.

«It is time. She is thirty-four, and she must know about her duties and what is expected of her.»

Tauriel exhaled, and walked back to Kíli and their daughter. She took her husband's hand and kissed it. His scent always calmed her, and she needed to be calm. She knew they were all right, though she wasn't sure she was ready for her daughter to grow up. For Tauriel knew that Kíliel would never again be a carefree child once they told her the truth.

«Do what you must, but I do not agree. And the marriage business is definitely not a solved matter,» Tauriel murmured and looked at Thorin with a stubborn gaze. «But not tonight. Too much has happened today.»

«She needs to sleep now, and dream of happier things, before the world turns harsh and hateful.» Kíli spoke softly, though his words were full of spite, as he rocked his child. He felt her breath came heavier as she breathed against his neck and her shaking had all but gone away.

«We will see to it tomorrow, then, but you do understand the importance of her knowing?» Thorin exhaled and rose from the chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Tauriel, who nodded without meeting his gaze. Thorin continued with a softer voice: «You might not think it, Tauriel, but I do want your permission to educate her. You are my family, and you are precious to me, all of you.»

Tauriel was not yet used to him speaking of such things, and turned away, full of regret for her angry words. She took Kíliel from Kíli's arms, into her own and walked to the bedroom. The girl was still small for her age, and half the weight because of her elven heritage, so lifting her was no hard task, though she was no longer a babe.

Tauriel exhaled. She remembered how small Kíliel had been once, such a cheerful and happy child she had been. Everything was easier in those early days, when everything seemed perfect with their lives. But nothing was perfect. Nothing could ever be perfect, for their daughter was the future Queen of Erebor.

She closed the door behind her and walked to lay Kíliel in their bed. The girl had her own bed of course, but if this was the last night of her childhood Tauriel wanted to have her near her.

She helped her daughter out of her clothes and into her nightgown, and undressed herself as well. They lay beside each other, Tauriel on her side with her arms around her daughter, caressing her hair carefully and sung a song of the evening star, the light from which Kíliel's nickname originated.

Eventually Tauriel thought Kíliel had fallen asleep, and stopped singing. But Kíliel was still awake and spoke with a quiet voice: «Am I ugly, mother?»

Tauriel was shocked, her mouth hanging open and her eyes so full of sorrow as she embraced her daughter. But then the anger in her stirred again and she spoke with a stern, though kind voice.

«Listen to me, Kíliel: You are the daughter of stars and stone. You are the only one in the world who has the blood of the dwarves _and_ the elves in her veins. You have the fierceness, the strength and the stubbornness of the dwarves and the beauty, wisdom and pride of the elves running through you.» Tauriel put her hand underneath her daughter's face to make her meet her gaze. She smiled the smile of a proud mother and caressed her cheek. «One day you will be queen of Erebor, the first ever, and you will rule with a just, though firm hand. You are the most important girl in the world, and if anyone tells you differently, then they are not worthy of you!»

«But he is right; I am not a true dwarf.» Kíliel said and a new tear rolled down her cheek.

«Starlight, you do not understand. You are the best of both people. That is worth so much more than just being one or the other. Do not listen to the boy, for he does not understand how special you are. No one should speak to you unless they see you for what you truly are; a beautiful, strong and wise princess of two proud people!» Tauriel kissed her forehead, and held her close.

Kíliel listened to her mother's words and felt her heart lighten, for it was true. She was special, and she decided that she would never forget it.

But who could see her for who she was? Would anyone ever really understand her? The answer appeared instantly in her thoughts; Legolas would. He had done it before, seven years ago, and Kíliel felt calm at the thought of him. One day she would be all grown up, and she would marry Legolas, for he would love her for who she truly was.

Kíliel sighed, full of hope and happiness, and curled up tight against her mother and fell asleep just as Kíli entered the room after having seen the others out. He went to bed and laid next to Kíliel and Tauriel, and embraced his little family. Tauriel kissed him as he hugged them both close to him. She saw the worry in his face and stroke his worried wrinkles with a worried expression. Kíli grasped her hand firmly and smiled reassuringly. Even if his thoughts were heavy with worry for the days to come, he cherished the little moment of happiness now, in the dead of night, when they were all together and their daughter was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter to this story of Kíliel. It is in many ways the story of how she grows to be the delf that Legolas falls in love with, and so many chapters forth will be about her adolescence and growing into her role as the future queen. I hope you will like it, and do tell me what you think of it so far!^^


	3. Many Lessons

Kíliel sat in a chair at the end of the big table in the Hall of Council. Thorin and Fíli stood at the opposite end, beside the King's Chair, and around them stood the councilmen. There were only ten of them, as Thorin was still working on finding new members that he could trust after their return to Erebor, though it was already thirty-six years ago. No one could accuse a dwarf of hurrying or doing anything too quickly, and as Kíliel sat alone, looking around at all the faces that glanced at her and then continued to discuss and mutter between themselves, she couldn't help but wish they would hurry a little bit. She did not like to wait, and with not knowing what was going to happen she felt ever more uneasy.

It was only yesterday that Thekk, that ugly boy, had insulted her, and she gritted her teeth thinking of it. She was no longer sad, only angry and resentful. The cut on her forehead was swollen, but it did not hurt; it only reminded her of the hateful words.

As promised Thorin and Fíli had taken her here, for her first lesson as an heir. What exactly she was to learn she did not know, and after thirty minutes in the chair, silently watching as she waited for them all to being explain it to her, she felt her patience wearing thin. She heard her mother's voice in her head, telling her to be mature and wait, for that was what grown dwarrowdames did. They waited, while dwarves made decisions.

Kíliel scoffed. When she became queen she would wait for no one, elf or dwarf. The thought of Legolas came to her mind, and she couldn't help but feel a small tingle of resentment for him as well. As everyone else, he kept her waiting for him to come back, and she was tired of waiting.

Thorin, Fíli, Balin and Dwalin, who were also in the council, stood together, their heads low as they spoke of something she could not hear. It was as if they'd forgotten she was there, and Kíliel would not have it. She was the future queen and she wanted their attention.

She rose from the chair, still no one spoke to her, so she climbed up on the table and stomped her feet until the entire room turned as quiet as a dead forge, and all the heads turned to her in surprise. The echo of her feet filled the room, and she put her hands on her hips as she looked straight at her uncle and grandfather.

Thorin had a look of surprised shock, his eyes narrow as he exhaled with exasperation, while Fíli forced back an amused grin, pressing his lips to a narrow line yet his eyes were filled with laughter. He would never tire of her countless unpredictable performances, and he had no doubt she would give the council enough to handle as an heir.

«I am here too! And I want to know what is going on!» Kíliel declared, her voice raised as she had hardly ever done towards her grandfather, Thorin, who was after all the King. Seeing his expression harden, she suddenly regretted her actions, but now she was locked in place, with all eyes on her and with no way to disappear again. Her voice came softer, though stubbornly, as she lowered her head: «I do not want to wait any longer. Speak to me of my duties now, or let me leave.»

At her last words Thorin's eyes turned soft and he walked to lift her from the table. «You should not wait, lass, I'm sorry for making you,» he said as he sat her down on the floor, and caressed her cheek with his big hand. «But that table is a thousand years old, made by my great grandfather.» Thorin looked at her with a stern expression. Kíliel gasped and clasped her hands over her mouth. He smiled then and kissed her head before straightening his back and ruffling her hair with his hand. «So promise you will treat it with respect henceforth.»

«I will, I promise!» Kíliel straightened herself and tried to look sincere, pressing her lips together, her cheeks burning with regret.

Fíli smiled, his loving expression calming her as he winked his left eye. Still many of the council men looked at her with sceptical expressions painted on their faces, and she was afraid it might not have been the cleverest thing to do, not when she knew she had to convince and get on the good side with the council members she didn't know so well. Balin and Dwalin already adored her, she knew that, but the other ones, especially the oldest, Altar, frightened her. He was the Leader of the Council. He had cold and hard eyes that never softened no matter how wide she smiled, and she knew he would be the hardest of them to convince.

«My lords,» Thorin then said, his voice was strong and filled the room immediately. He held one hand on Kíliel's shoulder as he spoke. «I have called you here today for I have decided it is time for princess Kíliel to learn about her duties as an heir to the throne of Erebor. As the King's council you will all do your best to teach her and serve her as you have served me.»

Kíliel felt the weight of Thorin's hand as well as his words, and with a dread she realised her life would be very different in the years to come. As each of the members nodded in agreement, some with reluctance she imagined, her education had begun.

*

They spoke long, each of the council members taking time to introduce themselves properly, even though she had known about them all her life.

Balin was the King's first advisor and Keeper of the Books, of the history, laws and details of the people of Erebor. Dwalin was the King's second advisor, and Keeper of the Peace, which meant that he arranged the soldiers within and outside of the kingdom, to keep peace and help if the people needed assistance in solving matters like neighbour quarrels and smaller disputes. Also he was tasked with arranging the soldiers for war, was it to come.

Altar, the oldest in the council and five years Thorin's senior, was Council leader and decided what they would discuss and which matters needed to be brought before the King. Northar, a dry and exceedingly fat dwarf was the Master of Trading, and controlled what went into and out of the Mountain to Dale's markets. He had many dwarves under his management, who would make sure the people had the food and the fabrics they needed, while also managing what gems and stones would be sold to keep the income steady.

Then there was Vit, the Schooling Master, who arranged for the education of young dwarves in Khuzdul and the dwarven customs. Next were Dávi and Levi, the twins, who were the same age as Fíli and as cheerful and worry-free. Dávi was the Master of Healing, and was administrating the Chamber of Healing with a handful of skilled healers. They would treat mining and forging accidents, as well as common sicknesses, and assist with the occasional birth. Levi was the Training Master and would teach the new recruits to the army as well as young dwarves who wished to learn more about defending themselves. Kíliel had already had a few sessions with him, and she was taking to the sword and to archery quite well, with the encouragement of her mother. Thorin and Kíli were more wary of her fighting. They did not see the need, as she would always be protected in the Kingdom, but both Fíli and Tauriel wanted her to know the basics, as «one could never know when one would need to defend oneself.»

At last there was Gloar, who was Master of Mining and Forging, and had dwarves that kept books on what and how much they extracted from the mountain, as well as figuring how far and how deep it was wise to delve, and mapping their progress. He was also keeping books on the forgers in the mountain, to make sure everything they made were registered before being exported.

There were many things to keep and maintain in the Mountain, but with the help of the council Erebor was slowly getting back to its former glory. Gold was flowing in the veins and coins came in from all over Middle Earth for the craft of Erebor.

Kíliel listened to all of this, with her chin in her hand and her elbows resting on the table as she had heard all of that before and more of the dull details were explained to her. She exhaled with a tired expression. She knew it was important, but she had not thought these were the things they had wanted to tell her about being an heir. These details gave her nothing but dread for the future council meetings.

After many hours of explaining the inner works of Erebor and all the important tasks she had to understand the meaning of, the meeting was adjourned and the council departed. Kíliel was left in the chamber with Thorin, Fíli, Balin and Dwalin.

Dwalin grinned at Kíliel's bored expression as she exhaled exasperated and looked at them with pleading eyes. «Do I really need to know all this? I do not see how that helps me to become a better queen.»

«It is the matter of your kingdom,» Thorin said, his voice stern. «Being a good ruler is about knowing all the needs and problems of your people, not just your own.»

«But I thought you would tell me about my responsibilities. Wasn't that what you said last night?» Kíliel looked at Thorin with a down-spirited expression, her eyes big and green, the look he could rarely resist. But today he was not so easily charmed, and he pursed his lips and looked down at her with narrow eyes. She was no longer a child, and he would start treating her like a pupil more than his granddaughter he had so far spoiled with little scolding.

«Knowing about your kingdom is one of your many responsibilities, Kíliel. You are no longer a child and you will have to learn about things you might not like. Even if you are a princess, it does not mean you can always get your way.» Thorin spoke, and Kíliel groaned and hid her face in her hands. Then she straightened her back and looked at her grandfather with a more serious expression.

«I'm sorry. I will try and act more mature, if that is your wish.» The words sounded strange and too cold in the little girl's mouth, making both Thorin and Fíli feel the sadness of her robbed childhood. But she was the future queen, and the sooner she learned the harsh truth, the sooner she would be strong and prepared for the hardship ahead.

«The lass has been very patient today, I'm sure the rest of her education can wait for now. Erebor was not built in a day.» Balin smiled and patted Kíliel's shoulder supportingly. He understood both hers and her uncle's and grandfather's trouble with the change.

«You are right, Balin, it's a beginning.» Fíli winked at Kíliel, and she smiled half-heartedly. She did not want to let down her family by showing her reluctance, but she felt hopeless, and had more questions now than at the beginning of the meeting. And yet she had heard nothing about her marriage with Thekk or why it was arranged. That was what she really wanted to know more about.

«Grandfather?» Kíliel said quietly as they all began to move out of the chamber. Thorin turned and looked at her with a questioning gaze as he laid a hand on her back.

«What is it, lass?» He asked, his voice soft and warm again.

Kíliel fought tears that suddenly pressed on in her eyes as she thought about it all, and she said: «Will you help me practice the harp tonight?» And with this cue tears started to stream down her cheeks, yet she made no sound, so not to attract the attention of the others as they left the chamber.

Thorin stopped and without saying a word he crouched down and lifted her into his strong, protective arms. As she continued to sob silently against his neck he carried her down through the halls of Erebor, until they eventually came to his chamber.

He ordered some food to be brought to them by the guards outside his chambers, and then he carried her inside and shut the door behind them. Kíliel didn't cry anymore, she only felt sadness that she could not be as mature as he expected her to be. She walked to sit by Thorin's big harp and did not look at her grandfather.

Thorin had expanded his chambers, at the same time that Kíli had made the living quarters for his little family, and the first chamber was now a sitting room, with lounges covered with blankets and pillows, as well as a leaning chair before the fire. Beside the hearth stood a stool and the big harp that belonged to Thorin. Kíliel's arms were yet too short to reach all the strings, so she had the little harp she had practiced with since she was twenty years old. That was fourteen years ago.

She plucked some of the strings, and turned the handles to make the sound right. They would shift some from each time she played, which was growing farther and farther apart, for she spent much of her time with her mother and dry-nurse, learning about both of her cultures and languages. She was almost fluent in Khuzdul, but she struggled with Sindarin. She rarely ever spoke it outside her lessons, though she tried to use Khuzdul every time she had a chance, Fíli was especially helpful with that. But Thorin was the only who had patience to teach her the harp, and she was sad she had neglected her time with him. She treasured the lessons so, for he was always calm and would teach her while they talked about this and that, and the hours would seem like minutes.

Now he was silent, as he got the fire going in the hearth and sat down in the leaning chair in front of it. He did not look at her, which made her uneasy and restless. The feel of guilt for her actions, both about climbing the table and not paying attention in the council meeting, burned in her cheeks. Kíliel exhaled and settled with the harp on her knee. She opened her mouth and spoke with an insincere easiness: «What should I play, grandfather?»

«I know the meeting was not what you had expected.» It was as if he had not heard her, and she pressed her lips together at his stern expression. Tears filled her eyes again, but she was too stubborn to let them fall this time.

«I'm sorry I did not behave,» she muttered and plucked another string to hear the perfect tone ring through the chamber.

«I do not know what I expected.» Thorin growled, but he was mad at himself and not at her, though Kíliel did not understand. He was angry that he had not explained to her long ago the duties of her position, angry he treated her as a child, when she needed to be taken seriously. He could not expect her to behave like an adult if he did not treat her like one, and the transition had to be made easier for her. He shouldn't have expected her to have matured over-night. He loved the girl so dearly, and he realised it would be hard, especially on him to make this change. But it was time.

Kíliel did not hear this inner dialogue, and the thought of her failure filled her with a bitter anger. A tear released from her eye and she bit her teeth together as she continued to test the strings. She let her hand flow over several of the strings, and the sound pierced her hardening facade.

«I understand I must be a disappointment,» she spoke, her voice hard yet quivering slightly. «Thekk was right, I am no dwarf. I'm not worthy of being and heir to the throne of Erebor.» Her vision blurred as tears continued to fill her eyes, and she pressed her mouth shut with a bitter anger.

At that Thorin turned abruptly to her, his gaze hard. He rose from the chair, sat down in front of her and took her roughly by the shoulders. «Look at me, Kíliel!» He demanded, and Kíliel could do nothing but meet his gaze when he spoke with the voice of the King.

«Never shall you say such a thing. I am sorry, I misjudged you, a mistake I will not make again. But it is my mistake, not yours.» He caressed her cheek and his gaze softened. «You are the future of Erebor, and at knowing that I am glad, for with you as its queen our people will thrive. You are strong, clever and too stubborn for your own good, all these traits a good dwarf possesses. For you are a dwarf, as well as you are an elf, and take strength from that knowledge. To know your own weaknesses makes you even stronger, but do not for a second trust the words of that boy. He does not know you as I do. You are a true daughter of Durin; you are my granddaughter. Do you hear me?»

Thorin dried some of her tears with his thumb, and Kíliel smiled and nodded faintly. «That is what mother said. But can I be both a dwarf and an elf at the same time? I cannot see how.»

«I believe you can,» Thorin said, his voice warm and kind. «If you use your head and respect the potential that slumbers within you. I am not sure when, but I do believe you will find your true powers, and it will show your worth to the world. Do not doubt it, lass, for you are special and you have the love of your family. There is no bigger blessing.»

Kíliel smiled and threw her arms around Thorin's big neck, though her hands barely met behind his head. She hid her face in his tunic, drying her last tears on the rough material. His warm and familiar scent calmed her racing heart.

Thorin chuckled and hugged her to him, taking care not to squeeze too hard. She was still rather small and fragile. He let her go after a moment, and ruffled her hair with his big hand as he always did.

«That is the last I want to hear about it. Now play me something beautiful!» Thorin said encouragingly, and flashed his crooked smile that always told Kíliel everything would be all right.

She giggled and settled on the stool again. As Thorin sat down in his leaning chair, she stroke her fingers over the strings. While Kíliel worked both hands on the harp a cheerful melody began to fill the chamber. It was a dwarven supper song, sung before the meals of special occasions to honour the cook and the good company. It was a song all dwarves associated with friends and good food, and it would instantly cheer even the most grumpy dwarf on a washing day.

This was the song she played, for she needed her spirit to stay up as she asked Thorin about the one thing she needed to know: «Why must I marry Thekk?» Her eyes stayed on the harp and the strings she played, mostly because she was afraid of his answer. In truth she needed little focus to play that song; she knew it by heart and her fingers danced as by their own will.

Thorin gazed at her for a moment before clearing his throat and straightening himself in the chair. It was a difficult question for him to explain, for he did not know if she would understand, but that was when he made the decision.

«I will tell you the truth, because you need to know this. I also need to know that I can speak to you as an adult, even if I know it is cruel of me to expect you to be grown up already. But for now I will treat you like the heir you are, with the respect you deserve.» Thorin said and looked at her with anticipating eyes, his expression serious and kingly. «That means that you will have to hear me out without interrupting, for remember, Kíliel, I am not only your grandfather, but also your King.»

Kíliel gazed at him quickly before returning her eyes to the harp, and tried to hide the little smile that grew on her lips. She was glad he would treat her like an adult, for she treasured the opportunity to show him her worth, to make him proud. So she nodded determined and waited for him to continue.

Thorin exhaled, leaned back in the chair and began talking: «You know that our people spent two hundred years in exile in the Blue Mountains, which were hard years for all. Few of our people are as lucky as you to be born in Erebor. Their labour was long, and they look to me, their King, for they trust little else, and many fear that we will once again lose the Mountain.» Thorin's voice was grave as he spoke, his eyes watching the fire as the memories washed over him. «That is why the King must always have the favour of the people and work to maintain it. A fair and good ruler is the difference between a united, thriving people and the ruin of a once great kingdom.»

Kíliel felt her heartbeat quicken, even as she continued playing, for she understood the importance of his words. She thought she could understand in which direction this was going, and she was nervous for what she would hear.

«Had it not been for my father and grandfather's lessons I would not have been prepared to keep our people united through the exile. It was a hard labour, for a people without a land of their own is hardly a people at all. Both my sister and I worked hard to keep the spirit of the people when all hope was lost.» Thorin's voice grew graver and his eyes darker as he spoke of this, and Kíliel imagined what he saw in the flames before him. She had heard tales of the years in exile, but she did not fully comprehend their struggle. She had only ever known the Mountain, and even dreamed of a life somewhere else, away from these halls of stone.

«That is why our laws are so important to us; without them we wouldn't have survived the exile and been able to return as a united people. That was the reason it was such a hard task for me to arrange your parents' marriage. The councilmen are strict, because they know how important it is that we keep our laws so that we can rebuild our kingdom. That is also why they ushered a new law, granting you the right as an heir, keeping the bloodline of the Kings. As you know, never before have a queen ruled Erebor alone, and so such is the term for your given right; you must marry a dwarf of royal blood and mother his children. Only then can you assume the throne beside your husband, who will be King, and you will be his Queen.»

Kíliel's hands froze suddenly, cutting off the music abruptly. A lonely note lingered in the air between them, as she looked at Thorin with disbelieving eyes. He met her gaze with a hard expression, testing her to see her reaction. Kíliel kept her mouth closed, her lips a narrow line to keep from exploding. Yet her hands shook for the rage in her chest. When Thorin did not speak for a moment, she opened her mouth.

«So I will not be the ruler, then?» Her voice was low and powerless. «Thekk will be. He will be King, and I will be nothing.»

«You are the heir, Kíliel, and everyone knows it. As the Queen of Erebor and direct descendant of Durin you will be revered.» Kíliel heard him speak, but knew his words were for her comfort only. They had no meaning.

«And I will only have respect if I earn it, because I am not a real dwarf,» she breathed, making sense of all the conversations she'd overheard from her parents and of Thekk's words. She felt cheated, for this was not what they had told her. From as far back as she could remember they had called her an heir, 'the future queen' had they said. It was all a lie. «That's why they want me to marry a dwarf, is it not? Because they need to ensure the rule of the dwarves. They won't risk me marrying an elf.» Kíliel closed her eyes for a moment, realising the truth of her own words. She would never marry Legolas, unless she would give up her right as queen.

«It is.» Thorin answered after a moment of silence, and lowered his eyes.

He had not intended to tell her quite as much, but she had guessed more than he had thought she would. Maybe he did underestimate her maturity. With her mixed blood it was hard to determine exactly how quickly she would mature, though expecting her to grow slower than dwarves she would not yet be in her teens. Maybe they were wrong. She had clearly understood everything he had said on a deeper level than anticipated.

«And that is why it is crucial that you do win the favour of the people if you wish to be their queen one day. I will not say it will be easy, and it is not fair, but that is the way it is. Had you been born a male it would probably have been easier, but this is the card you've been dealt, and you need to decide what you will do with it.» He had never before spoken to her with such brutal honesty, and Thorin felt the dread fill his chest, as her expression grew more angry and sad as he spoke. It was a cruel world and it was wrong to demand all this of her, but these were the rules and terms of the council, and he had accepted if not for the cost of their loyalty.

«Who will be heir if I choose not to?» Kíliel suddenly asked, her expression confused and angry. She knew the answer before Thorin spoke. «Thekk,» she mumbled and lowered her gaze.

Thorin nodded and exhaled heavily. He liked it as little as she did.

«That is why he and his family moved here. Whatever happened he would still become King.» She could barely breathe. The words were almost inaudible, though most for her own part, not Thorin's. She needed to hear it out loud, hear the truth they had kept from her through all these years.

Kíliel stood up suddenly, and the harp crashed to the floor. It had no importance, nothing had. All that mattered was the fact that her parents, though claiming to keep her best interest in mind, had lied to her for as long as she could remember.

«The union was decided from the day he was born, though none of us thought it would hold. It was only an agreement. I had thought the councilmen would change their minds at seeing you grow and become the strong minded dwarf-lass that you are.» Thorin spoke, trying to calm her down.

«I am no dwarf,» she breathed, and she met his gaze with angry though determined eyes. «I'm a dwelf, and I do not care what the councilmen think; I will be the greatest queen Erebor has ever seen, with or without a King by my side.» Kíliel hissed and stormed out of the chamber, through the door and slammed it shut behind her before Thorin could stop her.

The anger boiled in her blood and she ran out of the royal quarters, through the Hall of the Kings, and further up through the mountain. She would not speak to anyone, she was afraid of what she would say if they asked her.

For the people of Erebor it was not unusual to see the princess run past them, and none stopped her as she came closer and closer to the Main Hall and the gates leading out of the Mountain. She ran on adrenaline and anger, her intentions were not clear to her. She only ran.

As she came to the Quarters of the Guards, the chamber before the Main Hall, she finally stopped and gazed around. What would she do now? It was not like she could run any further, she could not run away. That would only prove how immature unworthy she was as heir.

She exhaled and walked through the quarter, towards the training area behind the Captains chambers, and she suddenly heard noises coming from there. Peeking around the corner she saw not guards training, but children her own age, and amongst them she saw the unruled waves of brown hair that could only belong to one ugly boy; Thekk.

Kíliel felt the cut on her forehead sting as she remembered the day before, and she exhaled. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of another fight, but maybe she could challenge him in other ways. She gathered her strength and confidence as she rounded the corner and walked towards the sparring dwarves of her own age.

They were fighting with wooden sticks as swords and spears, sparring two and two, and then switching partners as each session was ended with a stick in the belly or to one's neck. She saw Thekk move with a stick as naturally as if it was a part of his own arm, which was what Fíli always tried to teach her. She still couldn't make the movements quite as natural, and seeing Thekk mastering it with such ease made her cheeks burn with newfound anger and resentment.

At seeing her approach they all stopped suddenly and stood staring with distrusting eyes. Kíliel felt the grip of her nerves around her throat. She rarely ever spoke to any of the children her own age, as her mother had been cautious about it, afraid they would not take to her and hurt her out of fear or spite. Kíliel did not blame them, but their suspicious gazes made her second guess her decision. They spent much of their time together, the little group, and would avoid her at any cost. Of course had Thekk blended with them perfectly. It made her grind her teeth with envy.

«Well, isn't it the little princess honouring us with her presence?» Aín, the tallest and oldest of the little group mocked and crossed his arms over his chest as she approached. He was the grandson of Altar, the council leader, and shared his grandfather's dislike for her.

«I've only come to train,» she said, her voice failing as she met Thekk's clever grin. His nose was slightly swollen after yesterdays fight, and she felt a small happiness in knowing she was to blame for it. Then she cleared her throat and looked away from Thekk. She let her gaze move across the faces of the other children instead. «There's no law against it.»

«You are not welcome here, she-elf! You see; this training area is for dwarves only.» Aín continued offending her, leaning on his stick as he looked at her with condescending eyes. Kíliel pressed her lips together with rising anger. The insult stung deep, but standing before Thekk she would not let them drive her off with petty talk. She was, after all, the future queen of Erebor, and she would have him eat his words.

They were seven in total, besides Kíliel, with five boys and two girls, and Aín was the biggest and strongest of them all, causing the other's to follow his example out of terror of him turning on them as well.

She took a stick from the rack on the left side, and moved towards Aín with proud steps.

«Are you afraid of fighting me, Aín? Afraid you'll be bested by the _she-elf_?» She mocked back, her tiny hands grasping the stick as she stepped closer to him. He was more than a head taller than her, as he had already begun to grow into the size of a mature dwarf, even if he was only three years older than her.

Aín roared with laughter. «And what would you know about fighting? You're an elf, your very existence is a disgrace. Your father has dishonoured the line of Durin by his union with your filthy elven mother.» He towered over her, his eyes narrow and his tone venomous. «Had I been you I had not dared to show my face in public.»

Kíliel sneered at him, feeling the impulse to hit him grow almost uncontrollable in her stomach. As she was about to raise her hand and hit him with the stick, someone stepped between them. She was surprised to see the brown hair of Thekk, the boy she despised, as he stepped in front of her and pushed Aín backwards away from her.

«You have no honour as a dwarf, speaking to your princess without respect,» Thekk sneered at him and even as a head lower he was intimidating. «She's the granddaughter of Thorin Oakenshield, and I bet she'd have no problem beating your disrespectful arse if she was but a head taller. Pick on someone your own size, or back off. There is no honour in fighting you, who uses your tongue to win a battle.»

Kíliel felt her mouth fall open. The words coming from Thekk's mouth were the last she had expected from the boy who had insulted her equally, just a day ago. What was this? Some trick?

«Isn't this precious?» Aín roared and looked to the other children for support in his mockery. None said a word. Aín turned back to Thekk, his enthusiasm somewhat lessened. «Sticking up for your lover, ey, Thekk? Khathuzh âzyungâl!» He grinned through clenched teeth and looked at Thekk with a daring glare. It was clear with his narrow eyes that he did not like the situation, as he felt his loss of control over the children.

Kíliel felt her anger rise again at the insult, even if it was only partly meant for her. 'Elf-lover' he had called Thekk, and it was a grave insult, especially after her mother and father had married. It disrespected the line of the king, her family, though it was Thekk he had used it against.

«If that is what it means to support the future queen of Erebor, that I am. Yet you are nothing but a coward,» Thekk grinned and took a step closer to Aín. «So big and tough with your sharp tongue, but afraid when faced with a real opponent. It is you who is not a true dwarf.»

Aín snarled, glaring at Thekk, but said nothing.

The two dwarves held gazes for a long while, and the other children became nervous at their silence. They did not know whether to support their leader or the new boy who was after all a royal.

Suddenly Thekk grinned, and lowering his head he gazed at Kíliel with a playful expression. He winked at her, and for the first time ever the gesture did not annoy her. Though she was still in shock at his supportive words, and even now, after being insulted so deeply, he did not show a sign of anger. She did not know this Thekk. She had thought him all figured out, and now understood there might be more to him than just the rough exterior. It changed everything.

«Your think you're so important,» Aín grinned bitterly and pressed a finger against Thekk's shoulder, pushing him back. «But even if your father bought you a wealthy bride, that does not make you a king. Erebor needs a good king, not an elf-lover.»

That must have been the drop, for it was then that Thekk turned back to Aín and buried his fist in his face with such force the older boy staggered backwards and lost his balance. He fell heavily and was out cold on the ground. A small river of blood began running down the side of his face from his nose.

Kíliel gasped in shock, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth. It might be because she had known and seen him every day for a year, but she suddenly realised that Thekk had grown excessively since he had come to Erebor. He was perhaps not as tall as the mature dwarves yet, not with his ten years of Aín junior, but seeing him now Kíliel noticed the muscles under his shirt, his strong neck and big fists, and she realised they must hold immense power. It was like he was a completely different dwarf from the one she had attacked the night before.

She stood gaping along with all the other children, and he turned to her.

«None but me insult my future queen and wife,» Thekk grinned with a crooked smile that she had never before seen him wearing. He winked at her and walked away from the scene before she could do or say anything.

Kíliel felt the blush in her cheeks grow, yet she did not know what to think as she watched him walk away. What did this mean for her? For them? She only knew with certainty that he had renewed her impression of him, and given her respect for the dwarf she had kept nothing but resentment for from the day they met a year ago. How wrong she had been.

She decided then and there to give him another chance. Even if he was rough around the edges, spoke through his nose and had manners alike those of a stubborn pony, he had showed her that he could become a dwarf she one day could rely on.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Yeah, this was a long one, but surprisingly easy to write. All of the scenes came very natural, and I honestly feel they are all very important to this chapter, so I hope you won't hate me for the lenght!^^' And school has been very demanding, so that's why I postponed finishing it 'til now.
> 
> So this chapter is about introducing her to the harsh life she will start leading as the future queen, and also she sees Thekk from a different side than before. To any of you who think his actions are weird, keep in mind that they are still children (her with a mentality of an 8 year-old, and thekk around 9, even if she is technically older than him x) I know im confused myself) and how do boys show that they like girls? they taunt and mock, though will save them from any harm, and dont tell me im crazy, for this is a fact! So what do we take from this; Thekk has been in love with her from the start! :D (I may be tired, so do overlook any awkwardness! Thanks ^^' )
> 
> Well, I hope you like it! My co-conspirator salierifemme91(on deviantart) and myself have discussed them both so much we have fallen in love with Thekk without even realising it, as I hope you will too! ^^ But do not disgard Legolas. He has still a part to play in all of this! :3


	4. The Death of a Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíliel does not get the reaction she wants from her family while telling of her experiences with the children, and while Thekk is continuing to occupy her thoughts, Aín give her strange attention, and Tauriel's expertice as a healer is required with an unusual case.

When Kíliel came down for supper, the dining hall was seething with talk, and almost all the seats were taken. Dwarves came and went, with a smile or a «Good evening,» to the little princess standing in the archway. Supper was, as any other meal, one the people of Erebor rarely forgot. Kíliel scanned the room for somewhere to sit. She did not know if she wanted to see her family at this moment, but she could not avoid them forever, and she was hungry after a long day.

She instantly recognised them; her mother, father, uncle, grandmother and grandfather were all sitting by the King's table. It was not often they were all gathered for a meal, as Thorin and Fíli had much to do with royal business, her father spent much time in the forges or digging in the Mountain, her mother had been allowed to help with heeling and spent much time tending to sickness or injuries, and Dís spent much of her time with the restoration of the Mountain and its landmarks. Their gathering therefore had to mean something special, and she feared that it might be for her benefit.

Kíliel shook her head as to remove any uncertainty, and she walked up to the table on shaking legs. It was but an hour since Thekk had punched Aín in the face and stood up for her in front of all the other children. It was so confusing. Her thoughts were running back and forth within her mind, trying to find some misunderstanding as to what had happened, that maybe she had seen or heard wrong. It made no sense to her. The talk with Thorin was also fresh in her thoughts, and seeing him with her parents made the anger stir in her again.

«Iellig,» Tauriel exclaimed happily as she saw her daughter coming towards them. She rose from her seat to give her daughter a hug. Kíliel gave her mother a quick look, and then walked past her and sat down between her uncle and grandmother, on the other side of the table; they were the only two of her family that she did not resent at the moment.

«Kíliel? What is wrong?» Tauriel had a look of utter confusion, her brows furrowed in a worried expression as she sat back down with her eyes locked on her daughter, trying to understand what had just happened. Kíliel did not answer. The silence grew thick between the royal family as Tauriel and Kíli exchanged looks with Fíli, Thorin and Dís. Kíliel only looked down at the stew that was put before her on the table by a serving dwarf.

Kíli was the first to break the silence, his voice calm as ever when he spoke: «Daughter, where have you been? Uncle said you disappeared after your session.»

Kíliel's eyes flashed to Thorin, who met her gaze with a soft, yet worried expression. She did not know if he had told them what had happened, though she suspected it. She pressed her mouth shut. There were few secrets kept long in their family, so she decided to share what she had experienced out of spite. She knew it would upset them, and she wanted them to feel the hurtful sting she had in her stomach of their betrayal.

«I was at the guards' training area, where I met the children my own age. Aín made fun of me, he said I was an elf,» she spoke fast and gave them no time to comment, though she heard their frustrated exhales. «Then Thekk came and spoke for me, so Aín called him an Khathuzh âzyungâl,» and at this she heard Thorin's angry snarl, but she continued. «And then Thekk hit him in the nose so he fell over and passed out on the floor.» She finished, quite smug at having shocked her family, though stubbornly kept her eyes on the stew as she took a mouthful, like what she had told did not affect her in the least.

«Is this the truth?» Thorin suddenly demanded, his voice bore only a hint of his full might, and yet her eyes were forced to meet his. «Kíliel, you must not lie about these things!» It was then that she realised she had made the wrong decision in telling them, and a cold stone sank in her stomach.

«It's the truth. I do not lie, Grandfather,» Kíliel muttered through clenched teeth, and sent Thorin a quick but fiery look. She did not often dare to speak against him with anger, her respect for him was too great, but she was no liar, and she wanted them to know that. She was no liar even if every one of them were, though she did not say it out loud.

«I don't understand why this sudden ill-talk of elves have grown amongst the young. Where will it end?» Tauriel exhaled, and caressed her temples as Kíli laid an arm around her. Kíliel could see the anger grow in her father's face, even if he did not let it show to the others. She swallowed, and felt the regret heavy in her stomach. She always regretted upsetting her father, no matter how angry she was. She reached her hand over the table to take Kíli's, and he smiled a shallow smile that did not reach his eyes. They were hard with concern.

«Aín? Is he not the grandson of Altar?» Fíli's eyes grew hard as Thorin confirmed this. Kíliel could see her uncle's rage building as well, and it scared her. She had never before seen him so angry. He was rarely angry at all, and she knew that it was her fault. Had she only kept her mouth shut…

«We should talk to Altar about this. That is a grave insult to the royal line and my brother, and I will not stand for it!» Fíli suddenly rose and smashed his hand in the table so hard the trays jumped. «I will not have any dwarf, especially not the council leader, teaching their children that insult!»

Dís laid a hand on her son's shoulder and looked at them all with a calming gaze. «Let's not assume too quickly. The children know the language and may well have learned the insult that way. It is highly unlikely that the council leader would want his grandson saying such things. The boy is only a child.»

«He is not so young. What is he, rounding forty? He is almost mature, and there should be consequences for him.» Fíli continued with a sneer.

Kíliel felt tears well up in her eyes, listening to her uncle's angry words. She was not so much afraid as she only regretted that it went this way. They had all been right, she was too immature to be treated as an adult. An adult would have handled the situation differently. She sobbed once quietly, but it was enough to make everyone turn to her with alert eyes.

«Don't worry, Kíliel, we will clear up this matter. You did nothing wrong,» Thorin instantly assured her, his voice full of worry. It made it no easier for her, she only felt the gnawing feeling of disappointment of her own actions in her stomach as she met the worried gazes of all her family.

«I'm sorry,» was all she managed at first, before clearing her throat and again she looked to her parents. «I should've handled it all differently,» she continued as vaguely as she could, for she did not want to admit her regret. She did not want to seem weak or childish. Her parents' eyes were full of support and love and she took her mother's hand as Tauriel reached it across the table to her daughter.

Fíli looked at Kíliel with a worried gaze. «It is not your fault, niece. We will take care of it,» he murmured. His voice was suddenly warm and calm as usual, and he caressed her face carefully with his big hand. A small smile grew on her lips. Fíli always managed to cheer her up, no matter how stubborn or sad she was.

«Yes, it will be all-right,» Thorin smiled reassuringly at her, then he sent Fíli a look she could not interpret, but it made her uneasy.

Tauriel caressed her hand over the table and smiled as Kíliel met her loving gaze. «Gi melin,» her mother spoke softly, and Kíliel smiled even as she felt the sting of her uncle's words that afternoon. She was not ready to forgive her parents their deceit, yet she would not alarm them any further, so she smiled sweetly and continued to eat her stew.

As the adults continued discussing mundane things, Kíliel's thoughts returned to Thekk and his actions. She had hoped her family might help her with it, but they had all focused on the wrong part of her story, so she would have to wait until later. She did not know much about boys in general, but Thekk had shown that he was not as bad as she had first thought, so Kíliel decided to keep an eye on him, see if he would change any more as time went by. Also she wanted to get to know him better. It was time, and a good opportunity to show her family that she was maturing.

«Let us go home, Kíliel,» her father finally said as he and Tauriel rose from their seats. «It's… it's been a long day!» Kíli smiled at his daughter, though Kíliel noticed the little pause and his face shortly contorting in pain as he rose. He clutched his thigh, but stretched and pretended nothing was wrong as he put up a smile for his family.

It was an old injury, and it sent a wash of coldness through Kíliel each time she saw how it bothered him. It was more than thirty-five years since the orc had shot him and Tauriel had saved him from the poisoning, but it seemed to have crept up again in the later years, and she thought his silent complains grew more and more. It came and went; some days he would play and lift her onto his shoulders with ease, and other days he would groan from simply standing up. It frightened her.

Kíli spent most of his time working in the Mountain, as he liked to be a part of the common workers. He rarely joined his uncle and brother in any royal business, for he did not think it was his place. «I am simply a dwarf, and labour is important to keep the body and mind healthy,» he would always say and pinch her cheeks, whenever she asked him why he did not act like the royal he was.

It was different for her, she was an heir, and would one day rule these halls… beside her husband. The thought stung no less, no matter how much she thought about it, and she gritted her teeth as she got up to join her parents. Kíliel took her father's hand, supporting him slightly as she always did. They never spoke of the injury, but she knew it grew worse, and in her heart she was afraid.

As they walked back to their chambers she thought about the love she held for her parents, and tried to understand how all they did for her they did because they thought it to be best. She would not question it today. Today had been too long a day, but she would ask them eventually, for she could not accept that they had lied to her for such a long time.

—

The following months Kíliel tried to keep an eye out for Thekk, but getting his attention was suddenly a lot harder than it had used to be. Usually she would notice him eyeing her whenever they ate, during the fencing, Khuzdul, history, or any other class they attended together with the rest of the children of their age group, but something had changed in him. He kept his gaze low and he was quiet when he would usually be the loudest of all. His face held a strong expression, as if he was constantly trying to keep something hidden, and Kíliel suddenly began to wish that he would open up to her, even if she did not understand why.

It all gave her a bad feeling as she sat and observed Thekk during their numbers class. It was taught by Gloin, a dwarf Kíliel knew well as he was one of her father's companions during their mission. He was strict and yet patient with his teachings, luckily for Kíliel, as she had never been good with numbers.

Today, as usual, her mind was occupied with Thekk and his riddled behaviour. She sat behind him in the classroom, a step above him and to the left, so she saw his clenched jaw and his eyes which were far away from the calculations on the headboard, where Gloin stood with his rod and wrote with charcoal about the price of wool against the earnings of jewels. Kíliel leaned her chin in her hand, with her gaze on Thekk, his brown curls as he sat looking away from her, and she suddenly noticed a new braid behind his ear, the one which was so characteristic for the line of Durin. She got her own a few years ago. She did not know if this change in him made her like him less or more, but it reminded her with a sharp sting that he was going to be King, and she only his Queen, not the other way around. It awoke the fire in her once again.

«Princess Kíliel!» Kíliel jumped as Gloin suddenly exclaimed, so the entire class turned to her, everyone but Thekk. Aín grinned his ill-willed smile from the first row, as if he thought she would be punished for not paying attention. Kíliel cursed him under her breath and then put up her sweetest and most attentive smile.

«Yes, Master?» She asked, her voice light and innocent as she rose from the bench.

«I asked you a question, young lady. Do not think I can't see your day-dreaming from the back row.» Gloin scowled and pointed his rod at her.

«I apologise, Master. You see, I was only trying to estimate the earnings one would gain from a cart of emeralds, instead of simply a pound as you explained.» Kíliel widened her eyes to make her look even more sweet while she lied, and she saw that Gloin's expression softened a little as she held his gaze. «I was thinking that if a cart contains roughly seventy pounds, and I had three carts…,» Kíliel kept explaining the math she had done the previous night with the help of her father, which was still clear in her mind, while Gloin nodded impressed as she went along. She would have turned and glared triumphantly at Aín had she not had their teacher's full attention.

«Well, it is good that you work on your numbers, but do pay attention when I try to teach some of the more confused students-» he shot Aín an unimpressed glance. «-the easier way to estimate the winning of a day's work.»

Kíliel could've laughed by the way the situation had turned from her embarrassment to Aín's. That boy needed to be taken down a peg, and scolding from the teacher was just what he needed. She suddenly noticed Thekk's eyes on her, for the first time in many weeks, and Aín was suddenly far from her thoughts. Instead she felt blush redden her cheeks, so she sat down quickly and mumbled a short: «Yes, Master.»

While Gloin turned back to his teachings, Kíliel held Thekk's gaze, her heart beating intensely in her chest. She did not quite understand her own reaction, as she had been wanting to get his attention for so long. There was something with his eyes. They were more serious than she had ever seen them, and yet he sent her a short, soft smirk, one of those that had previously annoyed her so, before he turned away again. She didn't understand her own reaction.

She exhaled heavily as she kept one eye on the strange boy, and one eye on Gloin's complicated lessons throughout the class.

—

The class finally ended by the sound of the lunch horn, which was primarily used to signalise for the workers in the deep of the Mountain, but the classes were also timed after them. Kíliel was not sure if she had learned anything in particular during the class, of Thekk, or of the numbers.

She exhaled as she dragged herself off the bench, clutched her stone tablet and box with charcoal under her arm and made her way towards the corridor the great classroom opened into, which lead away and up towards the eating chamber where she knew her family was waiting for her.

Kíliel suddenly yelped as someone grabbed a lock of her hair while she was walking, so a sharp pain flashed through her. She spun around and stood face to face with Aín.

«Let go of me,» she snapped and slapped his hand away so her hair fell down again. She pressed her lips together and glared at him with narrow eyes. Aín had a comical expression on his face, as if her reaction amused him. It only made her more angry.

«Can't keep your eyes of your lover-boy, ey? Don't think I haven't noticed,» Aín grinned, as if he thought he could insult her again so easily. Kíliel only rolled her eyes.

«Are you jealous, Aín?» She scoffed and turned to walk away from him.

At that he grabbed her arm hard and held her back. They were the last in the room. She looked at him with fiery eyes, sneering, but she thought clearly that she would not be saved so easily now as before.

«Let me go, or I'll scream,» she lied, but he did not know that. She spoke low, but he heard her clearly, for she saw a flash of something change his expression for a mere moment, and then a malevolent smile stretched on his lips. He let go of her arm slowly, and she stood frozen as he strangely enough caressed her arm where he had held her.

«Run along, little princess,» he murmured, his voice soft and ill-bearing, and he bowed deep before her. «Go to your Thekk, he is sorely in need of your comfort,» his smile was ironical as he straightened and stepped away from her.

Kíliel looked after him and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she wondered what to think of his words. He seemed completely insane to her, but then again she knew little of boys and their thoughts. His words confused her no less. She did not understand what he meant. Was there something wrong with Thekk?

She did not ask, it was probably just another mind-game of his. So she stepped away from him, turned and ran, not wanting to stay another second in his company.

—

When she now met her parents for lunch, she did not mention Aín or his strange behaviour. She had learned well enough the first time and would not go through that again if she could help it. So mainly she sat and listened, answered shortly when they asked about her day and went through her thoughts about Thekk for the thousand time, and shook her head of Aín's strange words. They meant nothing.

Kíliel was deep in thought and did not pay attention to her surroundings, and suddenly a dwarf stood before their table, short of breath as he had apparently run quickly to find her mother. Tauriel immediately stood for she seemed to understand the ramblings of the dwarf and knew why he was here.

«What is going on?» Kíliel asked as her parents both rose and turned to walked out of the dining hall with rushed steps. She followed them, her ears sharp to try and understand what was going on, or where they were going. She did not grasp what had happened, only that someone was sick and they needed her mother's immediate expertise as a healer, as she was used to. But there was something different. Kíliel heard it in her voice as Tauriel explained what she needed of herbs and ointments while they rushed through the corridors.

«Yarrow, Elderflower, Thyme, silver dust, hot water for tea, cold water for soaking, clean cloth…,» Tauriel spoke quickly as she continued to explain all that she needed to the dwarf who nodded while listening intently. The dwarf must be another healer, working with Tauriel and apparently respecting her greatly by the way he heeded her every request.

Kíli held his daughter's hand tightly, and she looked up at her father, who had a stern expression as he kept watching Tauriel. Her mother was clearly stressed and nervous, which also was unusual. She would always stay calm and relaxed no matter what illness she was treating, but something was different today, and it frightened Kíliel. What was going on?

As they passed through another corridor, Kíliel realised where they were. They were on the way to the chambers of Dárin and his family. A stone sank in her belly. Was it Thekk? Was he sick? Hurt? The panic went through her and made her cold as she considered every possibility. Maybe Aín had gotten to him, repaid him for the time he was knocked unconscious. But her mother had mentioned Yarrow and Elderflower, and she knew those were for fever. She grasped Kíli's hand harder as she feared the worst.

When finally they reached the door to their chambers, Kíli knocked and was immediately met by a tired-looking Dárin, his eyes red and heavy, from little sleep, Kíliel thought.

«Please, you must help!» His voice was desperate and he quickly moved out of the way so they could all enter.

«I promise to do what I can,» Tauriel smiled reassuringly as she stepped past him and placed a quick hand on his shoulder. Dárin looked no calmer as he nodded thankfully.

Kíliel scoured the room for Thekk, and she found him sitting by the table, his face in his hands. She was so confused. He did not look sick or hurt, only tired like his father. For a moment he raised his gaze and looked at her, his eyes were glistening with water, but just as quickly he turned away. She did not know if it was of shyness or pride, but she felt her heart break for whatever could hurt him so.

Tauriel rushed past them and into the next chamber, which turned out to be the sleeping area of Thekk's parents. Kíli stayed with Dárin and Thekk, for they did not want to be in the way. Kíliel followed her mother, still curious to know what it was all about. That was when she saw.

Thekk's two year old sister, Thári, was laying in a rocking bed, and the child was barely moving. Her face was pale and her eyes blood-shot as she barely managed to open them to see. Suddenly she began coughing, and it would not end, even as her mother, which stood beside the bed, took her into her arms and rocked her while she beat lightly on the babe's back.

«She suddenly began coughing and her temperature is only growing…» Éira looked at Tauriel with pleading eyes, the pain of a mother who was unable to help her child was heavy on her face.

«Give her to me,» Tauriel said, and reached out her arms.

Kíliel stood in shock as she watched Tauriel take the babe and again laying her down in the bed to examine her as the coughing eventually died away, and yet the sound of her breathing sounded all wrong. It was a scraping sound, wheezing and gasping. Tauriel removed the little tunic the girl was dressed in. She laid her ear to the babe's chest to listen to her breath, and her face hardened suddenly.

«Swelling in her throat is preventing her from breathing properly, and the fever is draining her powers to keep fighting the infection,» Tauriel had a hard expression as she spoke, mostly to herself it seemed, but Éira held her hands in front of her mouth as she gasped out of fear for her child's life.

Kíliel felt the blood drain from her face by the words of her mother. It did not sound good. She could not understand how she had not known that Thekk's sister was ill. The illness, the First Year Fever, was usual for children between the age of one and five, and it claimed many young lives. Kíliel herself had barely gotten through it, by the help of her mother, so maybe the dwarves were relying on Tauriel to save this child as well. It gave her a bad feeling as she watched her mother further examine the child, Tauriel's expression growing ever harder.

This was very wrong, and everyone knew it. Suddenly Thekk's behaviour made complete sense to Kíliel, how he had suddenly become more quiet and his expression more worried; he had been concerned for his sister. How long had the illness lasted? From what she remembered Thekk had begun to change a month, or so, ago. Kíliel suddenly felt very guilty that she had not shown support to him, though she was not certain he would have taken it. Nothing about Thekk was clear to her.

Finally the dwarf that had fetched them came back, bearing all that Tauriel had requested. He left and closed the door behind him by Tauriel's command. It was only Tauriel, Éira, Kíliel and the little girl in the room now. Kíli, Dárin and Thekk waited outside, silent and anxious.

Immediately Tauriel got to work. She heated water for tea, asked Éira to fetch a barrel for the cold water and soak the cloths in it, and then asked her daughter to grind the herbs. Kíliel was glad to help her mother with healing, though she knew little of it; she liked to feel useful in helping others.

«We need to lower her temperature,» Tauriel said as she kept examining the child, her eyes in particular, and then her ears and mouth while she waited for the cooking water. «Hand me the wet cloth,» and Éira gave her one soaked in cold water which Tauriel wrapped around the girls feet, and another she wrapped around her chest.

As the teapot howled of the boiling water, Tauriel filled a cup and added the crushed herbs to the steaming fluid. She stirred with a spoon a few times, and smelled carefully the steam that came from the cup. She nodded shortly to herself, knowing that it was the right brew, but with no reassurance it would help the babe. Nothing was certain at this point, there was only a faint hope.

«Give me another cloth,» Tauriel demanded, her voice harder than intended, but much was at stake, and her blood was pumping as she got the cloth from Éira and wetted it with the water in the cup, and carefully rubbed it over the girls brow, cheeks, lips, throat and chest. She removed the cold wrap around her chest, and put the cloth with the brew on her instead. The mixture of the herbs was supposed to seep into the lungs and remove the blockage which hindered the little one from breathing. After a moment Tauriel bowed down to listen to her breath again.

«Hold her up for me, will you, Éira? Kíliel, hand me the silver dust,» Tauriel then said, her voice softer, yet Kíliel recognised the fear in it as well. Her mother knew something, yet she would not speak of it.

As Éira lifted the girl into her arms again, Tauriel held the babe's head and added the silver dust to the brew before she carefully held the cup against the babe's lips so that drops of the brew dripped into her mouth. The silver was used to fight bacterial infections, and even if it was late in the process it was Tauriel's last resort. Suddenly the wheezing sound stopped, and it seemed the babe fell asleep in her mother's arms, but she was too quiet. Éira had a look of desperation as Tauriel once again ordered her to put the baby down, and the mother did as she said, even as her eyes filled with water and her lips trembled in fear.

Tauriel had no time to soothe, her thoughts were with the survival of the babe. She placed a hand on the child's chest and one on her head and began speaking quickly in hushed elvish: « _H_ _î_ _r vuin, eru Il_ _ú_ _vatar; lasta enni!_ » Her voice was desperate, sharp and pleading at the same time. She raised her head and closed her eyes as she felt the power of the child fade beneath her hands. « _I beg you now,_ _Manw_ _ë_ _, blessed one, grant new life to this child; Ulmo, let your power wash through her veins; Aul_ _ë_ _, you from whom her life is gifted, show her the strength to live on; Orom_ _ë_ _, let your horn be heard as the beating of her heart; Mandos, close your gates and send her away, for it is not her time; L_ _ó_ _rien, give her dreams of life and hope; Tulkas, hold her fast so she may not leave her earthly body! Valar, hear me as I beg of you to let her live!_ » Tauriel pleaded in elvish, tears rolled down her cheeks. «Let her live!» She called desperately in the common tongue, and the final hope faded like smoke between her fingers.

A silence fell between them. None of them dared take a breath. Finally Tauriel took her hands off the child. They were shaking as she turned away. Kíliel did not understand. She watched as Éira cried out, watched as she lifted the girl into her arms and rocked her back and forth, calling her name and caressing her cheeks to make her wake. But it was too late.

The Valar could do nothing to help them now; the girl, a babe of scarce two years of age, was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> iellig (Sindarin) = My daughter  
> Khathuzh âzyungâl (khuzdul) = elf lover/lover of elves  
> Hîr vuin, eru Ilúvatar; lasta enni (sindarin) = My lord/Beloved lord, eru Ilúvatar; hear me/listen to me! (I would've translated the entire prayer to Sindarin had I got the time, but I figured you all would kind of hate me for it anyway, so I decided not to! ;)) 
> 
> Note:  
> I really don't have that much to say about this chapter. It was surprisingly easy to write, I just had NO motivation what so ever to write and so forgot about this for a week or two, and then suddenly realised I hadnt finished this so I spent the last week trying to spend some time on it, and it turned out better than I had thought! ^^ Everything up until the last scene was actually finished during my easter break so i feel terrible for forgetting about it and so postponing it more than necessary. I hope you dont hate me!
> 
> However, this is kind of a gateway chapter, as I am dying to get down and dirty with the drama which is to happen in the future of my dear Kiliel's life, and so getting this over with was very important, and yet the content of the chapter is also very important for the development for the characters as well as the story so i do hope you like it! ^^
> 
> Please tell me what you think!:D


	5. The Support of a Friend

Kíliel watched stunned, unable to react and comprehend. Even as Tauriel laid her arms around her, Kíliel kept her eyes on Éira and the child she rocked in her embrace. Tears streamed down the face of the mother, and yet the little one did not move or make a sound.

Kíliel felt coldness spread throughout her, but it was different from the cold of a wind or of snow; this coldness came from within herself. She felt the chill move up her spine, causing all the hair on her arms to stand up and yet she could not look away. After a while Éira fell silent, still rocking her cold child in her arms.

Tauriel held on to her own daughter in the same way, her arms warm and soft, though still as hard as stone, with no way of getting free. Kíliel wanted to get free; she wanted to see the child up close, to understand what had happened. But she understood that her mother needed her to stay quiet and still now, for as much her mother's support as her own.

She could not say for certain how long they all stood like that, for time moved differently, if it moved at all. For all Kíliel knew they could've all been frozen in time. Her thoughts had no leash as they bounced back and forth within her head, and yet she could not think. She wondered if this was what death felt like, to be cold and unmovable and yet crave to be alive. Maybe the babe was crying silently, yet they could not hear for her body would not allow it. She simply looked peaceful, pale and painless.

Finally Tauriel released the hold she had on her daughter. She sat down in front of Kíliel and whispered as she held her hands tight: «We should leave her to grieve her loss,» She placed a hand on each of her daughter's cheeks and looked at Kíliel with such sadness and yet such great love as was always to be found in her eyes.

«She is dead,» Kíliel muttered and tears welled up in her eyes as she finally managed to comprehend it all. Tauriel nodded and hugged her again, then kissed her forehead. She took her hand and opened the door to silently leave the room. They had to deliver the impossible message to the child's father and brother, both still waiting for word outside with Kíli.

When they stepped into the neighbouring chamber, Tauriel's eyes were restless as she did not know exactly what to say or how to meet Dárin's pleading eyes. For a moment she held his gaze, and as he swallowed, waiting for her to say anything, Tauriel looked away. The message was clear in the horrified expression on the dwarf's face. His mouth fell open and he staggered a bit before he pushed his way past them and into the room where his wife stood with their child still in her arms.

Kíliel closed her eyes as she heard his cry of utter despair and pain, and she felt new tears trace her cheeks all the way down to her chin. Never in her life had she heard a grown dwarf cry, and the sound was heartbreaking. She swallowed and opened her eyes again, to meet the eyes of Thekk.

He stood completely still. His lips and jaw moving as he gnawed the inside of his cheek nervously. His eyes were wide and alert while he heaved for breath. Kíliel wondered if he understood what had happened. Suddenly it felt like it was her responsibility to tell him, and she took a step towards him, and slightly raised her arms. However, he did not react as she had thought. His eyes blazed with sudden fire as they filled with tears and he staggered backwards, away from her. He then turned and ran for the door before she was able to stop him. She turned quickly to her parents to ask what she should do, but they stood embracing, Tauriel clinging to Kíli for support, and Kíliel did not have the time to wait for their advice. She turned and ran after Thekk.

—

She lost him of course. He was taller than her and with longer legs he ran much faster than she could, despite him being seven years younger than her. She ended up pacing the mountain, asking if anyone had seen the young prince walking around, as that was what people called him. She still did not like to think of him in that way, but at this moment there were more important things to worry about.

Kíliel still thought some of the responsibility was hers in comforting him of his pain, even if the reason remained a mystery to her. She simply felt it in her heart that she needed him to talk to her about it.

So she kept walking around, checking all the places she thought he might be; the dining halls, the training areas, the market halls, and finally she came down to the forges, even though she did not think that it was a place he would be. She had never heard him say anything about forging or having an interest in it. But how much did she know about him in the first place?

It was therefore a big surprise to her when she asked about him and she was directed to the further west end of the forge, where the smaller fires and forging pits had been installed so the young could learn in a safer environment than the greater forges further up the hall. There she found him, standing over the fires as he heated a lump of metal and then proceeded to beat at it with a hammer with such force she did not know he possessed.

«Thekk! Are you alright? I'm so glad I found you!» She blurted out, louder than intended. Thekk jumped startled as the tongs he was holding the lump of metal with slipped and the glowing metal fell off the anvil and hit the floor by his feet.

«Maiklif naith!» He exclaimed loudly, but he did not turn to her. She saw light glimmer in the tears in his eyes, and she suspected that was what he did not want to show her. He bent down and carefully lifted the metal in the clasp of the tong and placed it on the anvil again, and then laid down the tong next to it.

«I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you,» Kíliel took a step backwards and played with the fabric of her tunic as she held her hands on her back, looking down shyly.

«What are ya' doing here, Kíliel?» He still did not look at her, and his voice was hard as he spoke. She recognised a faint shiver, though she was not happy for it. His pain was obvious and she simply wanted him to share it with her.

«I was looking for you,» she began. His expression turned suddenly sour, so she continued a bit less confident: «I… only thought I'd see if you wanted to speak of it…,» she bit her lip as she spoke, «…with me. I understand how you must be feeling, and I…»

«What exactly is it that cha' think you understand?» Thekk suddenly turned to her, his eyes hard and she recognised a hint of pain in them as well. She didn't know what to answer. His expression unsettled her as he was more angry than she had ever seen him.

«I do not know, I only thought…»

«You thought you knew me and my pain, coming to 'comfort me', were you?» He took a step closer to her, and lifted his locked fist menacingly. Kíliel looked him up and down, her eyes growing big with her insecurity. Would he hit her? She knew how strong he was…

«No, I…» She tried to ease him, but he cut her off again.

«Because you know nothing!» He yelled suddenly, and tears began streaming down his face. Kíliel noticed that they had gotten an audience in the dwarves working around them, and it was a small comfort amidst her fear that they might stop him if he lost control and went for her.

«Did cha' know that I lost my brother? Seven years ago it happened, just like now,» Thekk talked quickly with a sharp tongue, and his snivelling was worse because of the tears streaming down his face. «He was quick and strong for a two year old, but that didn't mean anythin' when the fever came…»

Thekk grew silent while he lowered his head and covered his face with his hand for a second. He cleared his throat and straightened again. He had a new look on his face, hard and stubborn while he pursed his lips and looked at Kíliel with narrow eyes.

«Have you ever seen your mother become so depressed she doesn't eat for a month? Have you watched your father grow cold and distant, simply a ghost of the dwarf you look up to?» Thekk took another step towards her, raising his finger. He was close now, and he roughly jabbed his finger into her shoulder.

Kíliel took another step away from him, but she couldn't take her eyes off him. They were wide with stunned shock. She had no idea about his other brother, and she felt so stupid. No wonder she could not understand him. He may be seven years younger than her, but he was no child, not like her. She was so naive. What had she imagined? That he would need her? How wrong she was, like always.

«I didn't know… I didn't mean to…,» she barely whispered, and her lower lip began quivering as she bit her inner cheek. «I'm sorry,» she continued, and felt a tear leave her eye.

«No!» Thekk took a step away from her and straightened his arm towards her. «You have nothing to cry about!» He looked at her, his eyes wide and furious. «It is not you who must watch your parents go through the same process, while you have to stay strong because they all look to you for support! 'Thekk is so strong, Thekk is so mature, the future king',» he mocked angrily as he ended in a mutter, and lowered his head.

Kíliel felt a sting at his words, 'the future king'… She knew it was not the right time to be angry about it, not with everything he was going through, but she could not help it.

«Why don't you just leave then, if you don't want to be king?» She murmured with a hope it might be so easy. If he did not want to be king, surely they could just turn away and go home to Ered Luin. She felt another sting at the thought, but she could not explain it. However much she wished he would just go, she did not want him to leave.

Thekk looked at her then, his expression hard, his eyes big and angry. «Did you think I wanted this? Coming here and being the ass whom takes the throne without any claim to it?» He spoke low, his voice hissing as a new tear released from his eye. «Like you, I had no choice! You stupid girl… I would gladly have stayed home had it prevented the death of… of Thári.» He heaved for breath as he spoke, his voice hoarse. «I wish we had never come here. This is all your fault!» He screamed at her and turned away, hiding his face in his hands, while his shoulders began to shake slightly.

«Had you only been a true dwarf…» he muttered into his hand, but Kíliel heard. She blinked, frozen in shock that he would say it, yet again, after all that had happened between them. Had she been a true dwarf she could rule alone, then he and his family would not have been forced to come to Erebor, then his sister might not have died.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she took deep breaths, considering it all. He was in shock, sad and angry and she swallowed her pain, brushing his words off as simply a reaction to it all. She did not believe that he blamed her; if she was a dwarf or not, if she was guilty or not.

Kíliel looked at him, her brows creased. She was not sure about what she should do, if she should only leave or if she should try to comfort him, even if he had made it clear that he did not want her comfort. She stepped closer to him, and as she stood beside him she laid a hand on his shoulder carefully.

Thekk slapped it away immediately and took another step away from her. «I do not need your pity!» His words were angry, yet his eyes were filled with a burning fury as tears continued to stream down his face, even as he wiped them away repeatedly. «Do not think you know how I feel, princess, you know nothing of the world!»

Kíliel flinched, both for his painful words and for the nickname. It was the same Aín used and she recognised the same hatred and condescension as when he used it. She tried telling herself it was only his emotions speaking, but it was not easy keeping up the strong mask. She pressed her lips together, but she could not raise her eyes, she could not meet his gaze.

«Okay, I will go.» She finally said and turned away. She would not stay if he would only continue insulting her. She couldn't take it much longer.

«Please don't,» Thekk suddenly grasped her hand. It was only a whisper, an impossible change from his previous hatred towards her, but she turned back to him instantly. His eyes were so full of agony, and where there had been anger before, now was only despair. She had never in her life seen someone looking the way he did, and it scared her as well as worried her.

«I don't know why I said those things. I just…,» he began, his voice suddenly so pleading it broke Kíliel's heart. «I did not think… I _hoped_ _…_ She was not supposed to die; not her!» Suddenly he broke, he fell backwards and ended with his back towards the brick wall of the forge. He sat there with his arms embracing himself, heaving for breath as he sobbed loudly.

Kíliel stood looking at him, and then threw a gaze around the hall, noticing that they were suddenly alone in the forge. The other dwarves must have understood that it was a private conversation and left without them noticing. She returned her gaze to him, and with a sigh she walked to him, and sat down beside him. She did not care that he did not want her comfort, but she would be here if he needed to yell at her some more.

As she sat down, he surprised her further with pressing his head towards her shoulder and while he continued sobbing she placed her arms around him, her hand on his head as she held him tight while he cried. It was a strange thing, as she had never comforted anyone before in her life, yet it did not feel weird or wrong.

Kíliel leaned her face against his wild hair, smelling his sweet scent, a mixture of dirt and sweat and something else she could not put her finger on. But it made her heart race. She sighed and leaned her cheek against his head, as she continued holding him tight.

Thekk sobbed for a long while, though she could not know for certain how long it was, as her brain was racing every second of it to understand what was to understand of the strange boy, with little luck.

Eventually he calmed down, and his breath came easier as his shoulders stopped shaking, though he didn't move. So she kept her arms around him as she waited for something to happen. She would not be the first to speak, and if he would not say anything they would sit like this forever, and she was fine with that. That, too, surprised her.

«Why do you do this?» He finally murmured against her shoulder, and Kíliel felt her heart skip a beat, unsure exactly of what he meant, before he continued: «Why are you so kind to me?»

Kíliel blinked a few times, trying to make sense of her thoughts to reply something clever, but she found nothing, so she shrugged; «Well, I did punch you once, so I owe you,» and she felt his grin against her shoulder, which lightened her spirit as well. Then she grew serious again and sighed.

«I like you, Thekk,» she simply said, and it came as just as big of a shock to her as to him. But it was the truth; she did like him, and that was why she had stayed even after all his yelling. «You are the only friend I've ever had.» That was also the truth.

«I like you too, even if it is the strangest friendship I've ever had,» he answered after a minute, and even as she could not see his face, she thought his voice had the sound of relief to it. When he then raised his head and looked at her with blood-shot eyes of all the crying, his mouth was curled in a sad smile. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek, and lay down against her shoulder again.

She bit he lip as she tried to hide her growing smile.

«Thank you for staying with me.» He said, his voice had the sad accent again, and she felt her heart sink in her chest, remember all that had happened that day. «I'm sorry for all that I said,» he said lastly.

«Don't be sorry. I'm here if you ever need to yell some more,» she teased and caressed his cheek. At that Thekk placed both his arms around her and held her tight, and Kíliel felt his desperation through his touch, feeling his sadness and need for company. «What are friends for?»

—

It was late, and yet the swooshing of arrow after arrow flying through the air could be heard throughout the royal halls. Sweat trailed down her forehead while she continued stringing up the bow and firing, hitting first a round target, then a straw-man standing on the other end of the arena, then one of the ceiling plate-targets swinging back and forth. All the targets had several arrows deeply imbedded in them already.

Tauriel stopped, and her hand tightened the grip of the bow she held, feeling it all rushing through her. It was mere hours since she had felt the spirit of the child leave this world, and it was her fault. She screamed in frustration and swiftly and mercilessly drew and released another arrow which drove through the chest of the straw-man. She breathed heavily, and replaying it over again in her head she let go of the bow and sank down on her knees in the dirt.

It was all wrong. Children were not supposed to be taken from their parents, and she could have prevented it, had she only known more about the arts of healing. But it was no use. She had never been a healer in Mirkwood, only known what was necessary to prevent an infection or poisoning of a wound in the field. It was all she had ever needed to know, being the captain of the guard.

Living in Erebor… Everything was different. She had not anticipated what her life living in this mountain would be like, for even as she came here pregnant, she had never thought to survive the birth. She had thought she would die and that Kíli would raise their daughter amongst loving family. But she had survived, and was grateful to Illuvatar every day that she had, yet she spent many years getting used to her life here. For several years she had simply raised Kíliel with her husband, keeping a quiet life of happiness and love, but as her daughter grew she had less and less need of a mother's watchful eye, and Tauriel was left to herself. Kíli had returned to the forges and mines, and for the first time in her life Tauriel got to know what it felt like to be bored.

She was not allowed nor did she want to leave the Mountain, and yet within she did not know where she was needed. After a few years she had been approached more and more about her healing skills as an elf. Many of the dwarves knew the story of how she healed Kíli of a deadly poison, and it was not easy to explain to them that it was all she knew, so before she knew it she had joined Óin and his healers. And it was a good thing, for Tauriel liked to feel needed, to have a purpose in the greater picture.

It was her fault.

Éira and Dárin had laid all their hopes on her, and it was her fault that they thought she was talented enough to heal their daughter of a sickness which was a coin-flip between life and death. There was no known cure, and yet she had given them hope where there had been none. She had failed them.

Tauriel held a hand to her face as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks, and she heaved heavily for breath. Had she only known more, shown more interest in healing when she lived in Mirkwood… She was positive the elven healers could treat any fever, any she had ever heard of at least, but she was no healer. She should stop lying to herself, just admit that she was not useful to anyone; not even her own daughter.

Something had changed between them. Kíliel did not meet her gaze with the same happiness and carefreeness as she used to, and Tauriel worried. Last she saw her daughter she had ran after the young boy, Thekk. Tauriel did not trust him, and yet Kíliel seemed to have an unusual interest in him. She wanted to talk to her daughter about it, about everything considering romance and love, but she had thought it was too early. Much had changed in the last year, and Tauriel had finally been forced to realise that her daughter was maturing.

She was snapped out of her train of thought by the sound of steps behind her. Tauriel rose quickly to her feet, and turned around. Her eyes went wide and her breathing stopped short before she lowered her gaze again. Before her stood Éira. The dwarrowdam's eyes were puffy and red. Her hands played with the fabric of her tunic as she approached the elf, and yet her expression was determined.

«Why are you here?» Tauriel asked after a moment of silence between the two, still without looking up. She did not have the strength to look at Éira, not after everything that had happened, not with her own guilt burning in her stomach.

«I came to thank you,» Éira said softly. Tauriel's gaze flashed to her in a moment of disbelief. Was the dwarf mocking her? She found no evidence of it in her soft, kind face. Éira had the same motherly love in her eyes that Dís had whenever she looked at Tauriel; a look of love and worry.

«Why would you do that?» Tauriel turned away, and readying her bow she loosened it into the straw-man once more. The sound of the lonely arrow shooting through the air had a sad feel to it. Tauriel felt a tear leave her eye yet again.

«Because you helped us,» Éira answered, and the words were like an arrow to Tauriel's chest, sharp and cold.

«I did nothing,» Tauriel muttered and readied a new arrow. Her hands shook as she tried to steady it against the bow, and aim. Suddenly she felt Éira's hand on her shoulder. She lowered the readied bow and arrow and turned to her.

«You were there, and you did all you could to save my daughter's life. None could have done it better.» Éira smiled kindly as Tauriel turned to her again. «She was frail, and I had anticipated it, after what happened to my second son… Thanks to you we had many more weeks with her than any would have thought.»

When Tauriel first began treating Thári she had just the occasional cough, and the elf had treated what she could before the sickness had buried its roots too deep in the child's chest. If anything Tauriel had postponed the girl's suffering, but that was not how Éira saw it.

«I could not save her,» Tauriel breathed, and looked down again as a new tear released from her eye. She had no right to be crying, not before the mother of the child whom had just been taken from the world. It was disrespectful, and Tauriel was ashamed.

«There was no saving to be done. It was not meant that she would live. She's with Mahal, in his halls, playing with all the other children, free from the sufferings of this world, and I am glad of it.» Éira took Tauriel's hand and held it between hers as she spoke calmly, both a sad and a kind expression playing on her face. «I only regret to put this burden upon my husband, my son and now you.» Her eyebrows pulled together in a worried expression then.

«Please, do not feel any guilt for me, I was only doing what I could to help you, my friend, and your family.» Tauriel smiled fainthearted and let the bow fall from her hand, to put it upon Éira's. The weapon made a hollow sound in the hall as it fell to the dirt floor and laid quiet.

«For all that has happened between our families, I am pleased you can see me as a friend.» Éira replied, relief visible in her eyes. Tauriel nodded with a faint smile on her lips. After a minute Éira continued, her voice a bit less certain: «And I hope our children can find friendship eventually as well, and even love. I know you must resent the arrangement, but if it is any help, it was the way with me and Dárin when we were young, and we found happiness in each other as we grew. The younger the children are the more hope there is for the kindling of love to grow between them, and I hope with all my heart that it will be the way with our children as well, no matter the circumstances.»

«I thought dwarves married for love, and that it is the female's choice,» Tauriel looked at Éira, her lips pressed to a narrow line after she spoke. She let go of her hands as she turned away. Tauriel did resent the whole arrangement, but she would not disrespect her new-found friend by rejecting her good-wishing.

«It is true, in most cases, and even when it's not, we are never forced; the final choice must be ours, or it would be a crime against Mahal,» Éira cocked her head and sighed as she watched Tauriel. The elf felt her shoulders hang heavy as she thought about it all. «But I must admit that I did not only come here to thank you. I also came to ask you something, something which is out of my place to ask, but still I must…,» the dwarrowdam began uncertainly, her gaze at the floor and her hands collected, yet fidgeting with her tunic.

Tauriel turned to her again, her curiosity growing for whatever the dwarf wanted to ask of her. If Tauriel did not know better she would have thought Éira to be nervous, the way she didn't meet her gaze and kept wetting her lips.

«You may ask me anything,» Tauriel simply said, and placed a hand on her shoulder, as Éira had done to her when she was feeling uneasy.

«I was simply wondering…,» Éira tried to begin, but fell silent once more. She cleared her throat and started again: «I wonder why you and Kíli… why have you not conceived any more children?»

Tauriel was taken aback by the personal question, but she could not hold it against Éira, not after her second and third child's death. She ought to have expected it sooner, but Tauriel was not used to such openness of personal matters. It was not the way in Mirkwood.

«Well, first of all elves are only reproductive once every five years, in the period of the first full moon after our birthday. As parents we rarely desire many children, because we want to give as much love and devotion to our children as possible, and are content that way.» Tauriel began, uncertain how much she should explain of the elven way, as it was much different from the dwarvish. Though, as she spoke, Éira looked no less nervous, and Tauriel decided to skip the formalities and tell her the truth: «But the reason we only have Kíliel, and we will not have any other, is because of a herb which prevents it.»

Éira's eyes grew big at hearing this. She looked as though Tauriel had explained why the sun was shining or the birds flying. But it was what she wanted to hear, so Tauriel kept explaining.

«It is a midwife's secret that elven women learn early in their lives; drink a tea of dried Smartweed leaves every night before you go to bed, and you will not conceive when you are intimate with your husband.» Tauriel tried to keep an honest and steady face as she spoke, for Éira looked no less surprised.

«Is it true?» The dwarrowdam spoke in amazement. «I had no idea herbs could do that. But why do you take it? Do you not wish for any more children?» Éira looked at Tauriel with worried eyes, she whom had tried several times to have more children, even if Mahal would not have it that way.

«When I gave birth to Kíliel I was weak, and I did not think I would survive it. I lost my mother when I was merely 15 years old, and I would never do that to Kíliel. Therefore I take the herb, because I do not risk another birth like that. I never want to leave my child as my mother left me.» Tauriel pressed her lips shut and turned away slightly, a tear leaving her eye as she did so. Then she smiled at Éira again, for she was happy with her life as it was, and she did not wish to have it any other way. «My daughter is beautiful, and she and Kíli is all I could hope for in life. That is enough for me.»

«Then I will try the herb, for it is becoming clear that Mahal will not grant us another child strong enough to survive the fever, and I will not put my husband and son through this one more time.» Éira took a strong hold of Tauriel's hand and squeezed it as she smiled up at her. «I admire your strength, Tauriel, and I pray that we remain strong in the hard times to come.»

Tauriel smiled faintly, though wondering exactly what Éira was talking about. She assumed it was about Thekk and Kíliel. She grasped her hand firmly in return, for she realised how much she and Éira could rely on each other, no matter what Illuvatar had in store for them in the future. It was a great relief and a light in the dark when nothing else was certain.

* * *

**Translation:**

Khuzdul: Maiklif naith = Be cursed/cursed girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay, this is gonna be fast, because I'm seriously sick and moving my hands are only one of the painful activities my body wont allow me to do... My throat feels like its been driven through a shredder and then reattached with burning hot glue, which makes it dificult to eat or drink anything.... anywhooo..)
> 
> This is the fifth chapter in my "new" fanfiction, and I am finally starting to get closer to the good stuff. Im sorry for the wait, I've been occupied with exams and so much work I havent even drawn anything in a month and I am freaking out... Shortly Ill publish a drawing of inspired by this chapter, the first drawing ive sketched in WEEKS..
> 
> A lot of feels, just the way I like it.  
> Keep in mind that Kiliel is supposed to be around 9 years old and Thekk 11, I hope it comes across. I know, even if Thekk is technically younger than Kiliel he grows quicker than her, so thats weird..
> 
> I appreciate all feedback (and wishes of health, SERIOUSLY)! ^^'
> 
> -
> 
> Ideas, Oc's and fic (C) Me and salierifemme91 (on Deviantart)
> 
> Middle earth and all its other's inhabitants (C) Tolkien (and Tauriel is Jackson's, but who cares!)
> 
> Please don't use, write or alter in any ways my OC's without asking me first!


	6. The Start of Something New

«Ouch! What are you trying to do? Tear my hair out one handful at the time?» Kíli exclaimed and flinched away as his daughter tried her best to loosen his worst tangles with a fine comb. It was made of silver, forged by himself as one of the wedding gifts for his wife. And now their forty year old daughter tormented him with it.

«If you would only sit still it would go a lot quicker and painless,» Kíliel sighed exasperated as he moved away again, and the last bit of the tangle she'd been working on slipped from her fingers. She held the comb between her teeth and tried to find the knot with both hands again. Her father's hair was a mess to work through, thick and wild as her own.

«You sound more like your mother every day,» Kíli rolled his eyes, and suppressed a grin. Luckily for him Tauriel did not hear. She was still inside the bathing house with Éira, Thekk's mother. The two had grown close during the last five years. Kíli did not know how it had happened, but he was glad his wife was settling more easily. Forty years she had lived in the Mountain, and it had been a hard couple years for her to get used to it all.

This day was no exception. It was the 24th of February, the year 2983, on the annual Festival of the Mithrill, celebrating the coming of spring and the new year, or better known amongst the dwarves as the Washing Day. It was a holiday dreaded for its most important tradition; washing and combing of hair and beards. The dwarves of Erebor had, like any other civil culture, a good general hygiene, and any dwarf with respect for themselves washed all the important parts at least once a month. However, that rarely included combing of beards and hair. And Kíli was a great example of why.

«Will you stop it?» Kíliel squealed as her father for the tenth time moved away as she tried to comb out the last of this tangles. «You know you have to get them sorted some time. If you'd let me comb you more often, it wouldn't be so hard and painful.»

«Don't think you can fool me, lass. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you enjoyed tormenting your poor father,» Kíli turned to her and put up a sad face, meant to win her over. And it did.

«Only a little bit,» Kíliel giggled. She placed her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly from behind.

«Maybe I should do yours next then, see how you like it,» Kíli grinned and tugged at one of her wet locks that fell over his face as she leaned over him. She squealed with laugher and tried to get away, but he quickly got a hold of her and tickled her so she laughed even louder.

Some of the neighbouring dwarves turned to them as it sounded more like screaming than laughing, but at seeing the princess and her father, they ignored it and turned back to their own uncomfortable business of getting clean for the festival. Each group of family or friends had their own little stall, with walls three feet from the ground, so only the heads could be spotted above the walls.

Kíliel got loose from her father's grip eventually. She tried to keep a serious face as she again began combing his hair. «Don't try to distract me, father. Mother said to be very strict; you need to get all your hair and beard combed.» She giggled as she heard Kíli's groan. «It's for your own good!»

«That's only what she wants you to believe,» Kíli muttered and turned to look at her with narrow eyes, his lips curled in a clever smile. Kíliel knew not to listen to him when he had that smile. «Do you want me to tell you a secret?» He asked with a mysterious tone.

Kíliel rolled her eyes and put her hands at her hips, knowing it was just another silliness, to keep her from combing him. He was rather cowardly when it came to pain, especially if it involved his beard. «What?» She asked and raised an eyebrow suspiciously.

He waived for her to come closer, and as she leaned in, he whispered in her ear with an exaggerated hushed voice: «She's not always right.» He then placed a kiss on her forehead and laughed.

Kíliel laughed as well, for his silliness always got to her, no matter the situation or her mood. She leaned down again and kissed his cheek sweetly. «I know that, but we mustn't let her know,» and she held a finger in front of her lips, just as Tauriel came walking towards them.

«What are you two whispering about?» Tauriel asked wondering as she saw their lingering, smirking gazes. Both father and daughter broke out laughing, and Tauriel stood looking at them with a confused expression as both Kíli and Kíliel heaved for breath.

Tauriel sighed and rolled her eyes, though her smile was barely concealed. «Fine, keep your secrets.» She came around the corner and entered the stall. She was dressed in a bathing tunic with a linen towel wrapped around her. Her hair was wet and clung to her back.

«A father and daughter must have some secrets, _marl_ _û_ _na_ _ê_ ,» Kíli teased and stretched his neck to meet Tauriel's lips as she bent down to kiss him. Kíliel rolled her eyes at them.

«Did you finish combing your father's hair, Kíliel?» Tauriel asked as she straightened and began wrapping her own hair with the towel. Before Kíli got a chance to answer, Tauriel snapped: «I asked our daughter, because I do not trust you with that answer,» and she shot her husband a strict look, before smirking cleverly and winking her eye at him. Kíli sighed and continued sulking as Kíliel told her mother how far she'd come.

«It's not easy combing someone who's wincing every time I try to run the comb through their hair,» Kíliel pursed her lips and looked at her father, whom had the most innocent smile on his face. Tauriel sighed, and put her hands on her hips. Suddenly a smirk grew on her lips and she grabbed the comb from Kíliel.

«Would you rather have me comb it for you?» She asked him, and Kíli looked as if she had asked to cut off his beard.

«Don't you come near me, elf!» He laughed and sprang to his feet as Tauriel took a few threatening steps towards him, grasping the comb in her hand. Kíli walked backwards away from her, rising his hands as to protect himself. Tauriel wiggled the comb in her hand and smiled her most convincing smile as she closed in on her husband. Kíli growled and threw himself on Tauriel so they both fell to the floor where they proceed to wrestle to be on top. Both of them halfway laughed and grunted while they wrestled.

In the first couple years living in Erebor, Tauriel had found many of their traditions and customs strange and unusual, and this particular tradition was no different. She had thought it immensely strange to be in a communal hall while bathing, cleaning and combing one's self. Elves, and especially those of Mirkwood, had no experience with steam chambers, they preferred to bathe in the privacy of their own chambers, and the thought of only combing one's hair once a year was unheard of. But after a few years she came to honour and treasure the tradition more than even the dwarves did. It was a day that brought the whole of Erebor together, first in the washing halls, and then in the grand feast afterwards, which for the dwarves was worth getting combed for. This was why she urged for them all, especially Kíli, who had a tendency to shrug at most of their old traditions, to take it seriously.

Kíliel stood out of the way, watching her parents fight like they were no more mature than her, and she laughed. They were so silly, so much in love, and Kíliel wondered what it was like. They depended on each other like sister and brother, laughed like best friends, sometimes they fought like enemies, and yet they always looked at each other like there were no other present. Never before had she thought about it like this, but it was so obvious, and in her heart she envied them.

She suddenly felt a pressure in her chest, a sharp pain like the stab of a small knife, and just as quickly it was gone.

Her parents had finished wrestling and now they sat together on the floor, Tauriel over Kíli's lap and they kissed passionately once, before remembering their daughter. They both rose, still laughing. Tauriel walked over to Kíliel and laid a hand over her cheek, and then she dragged her hands through her daughter's hair.

«Do you want me to comb it for you?» Tauriel asked, her eyes warm and kind as always. Kíliel didn't meet her mother's eyes. She backed away, out of her mother's reach, and shook her head slowly.

«No, I'll do it later,» she began, her voice uncertain. «I think I'll go back to the steam chamber one last time before we leave.»

«Okay, starlight,» Tauriel said, her eyes growing concerned as she looked at her daughter. The elf looked to her husband whom shared her suddenly worried expression, before she turned back to their daughter, with a half-attempted smile. «But hurry back.»

Kíliel didn't want to say anything, nor tell them about her feelings. She didn't fully understand them herself, so she faked a smile and turned to walk towards the steam chambers. Maybe that would ease her thoughts, make her understand all the strange feelings growing inside of her.

Suddenly it hit her again, that strange, painful feeling in her chest. Kíliel felt the panic grow, not knowing what was wrong with her. She was still in public and she kept calm while walking past all the stalls. She decided to check it out further when she got home.

—

Kíliel spent thirty minutes in the steam chambers, breathing deeply, taking in the calming scent of the steam. It felt great to her stressed mind and her slowly fading headache. She was almost alone in the big room, as it was getting late mid-day. The time for grooming was nearly over and the three days of celebrating was upon them.

The bathing houses and steam houses on the other side of the hall from the stalls were not divided, but contained cold and hot ponds supplied with water from the many rivers running through Erebor, and chambers with steam coming through the floor from the hot springs underneath the mountain. The separate stalls were practical for the actual prepping and combing before and after washing. There were four washing halls underneath the city of Erebor, and Kíliel and her family were in the one straight underneath the living quarters of South-town.

Erebor was divided into four, one for each sky-direction. South-town was the home of the important dwarves beneath the Mountain; the council members and the royal families, but many of the general population also lived here. The four towns were placed on opposite sides of each other, and in the middle of them was the Market-halls and all the halls open for the general population. Each town had their own dining halls, healing chambers, guards' chambers, and washing halls. The Hall of The Kings, where Kíliel lived with her family, was originally a separate part of the Mountain, not belonging to any of the four towns. Because it was the closest to the South-town, placed straight above it, its inhabitants used that Town for its dining halls, classrooms and other necessities. The chambers of the Hall of the Kings were mainly for housing, not much else.

As she left the chambers to walk back to her parents, she noticed that both her hair and tunic was almost soaking wet again. She cursed under her breath.

There was no way her hair would dry before the feast now, not with all the curls living their own lives all the way down to her waist. It had grown as wildly as mountain grass the last few months, and she loved the feel of the weight and the sight of it that made her forget she was not a true dwarf.

As she rounded the corner of the steam and bath chambers, and entered the stall section of the hall, she recognised the curses of a young dwarf with a snivelling voice and warm, brown eyes. She followed the grunting and cursing and eventually she found him in a stall not too far from her parents. He was alone, and by the looks of it he was trying to comb his own hair, with little luck.

« _Kherakh_ _udu_ _Naragzudnu_!» Thekk yelled when the comb got stuck in his damp curls for the thousandth time. Kíliel giggled from behind the stall wall, and he turned to her abruptly. He had a flustered expression as he looked at her.

«Do you need some help?» She asked after a moment of silence. She had a bubbly expression, and Thekk straightened immediately and looked as if having a comb sticking out of his curls was completely normal.

«Why would ya' think I need any help?» He asked, his mischievous smile grew as he spoke, and he stood up from the stool where he sat. He tilted his head and looked at her with those big brown eyes, and for the first time she noticed that he was bare-chested. Kíliel blinked a few times, suddenly feeling her cheeks grow warm.

He looked no different than usual, but she had not seen him without his shirt before. The sight of his youngly muscled upper body, with traces of growing hair on his chest and lower abdomen, flustered her more than it should have. There was no doubt he was growing into a fit, young dwarf, and the thought both frightened and excited her; she was afraid for her own maturing and what would happen to her own body, and she was excited that he was no longer the young, ugly boy she had met six years ago.

They had gotten to know each other more the last five years, since the death of his sister. She was uncertain if they were friends, but they challenged each other from time to time, with games or riddles. He always teased her and she always pretended she was smarter than him.

Looking at him now, she felt her heart beat faster and for the first time she didn't know what to say.

Thekk's smile stiffened slightly when she didn't reply, and he looked at her with a strange expression. «What's the matter with 'cha?»

Kíliel honestly did not know what was wrong with her, but she cleared her throat and entered the stall suddenly, pretending nothing was different as she began untangling the comb from his hair with careful fingers. She made sure not to touch the smooth, slightly freckled skin of his shoulders, even though she could feel his warmth, standing so close to him. The painful pressure grew again in her chest.

«There's nothing wrong with me,» she scoffed, partly for herself and partly for Thekk, as she bit down her groans and instinct to clasp both hands over her chest.

«Don't lie, Kíliel. There's always something wrong with 'cha,» he grinned and then groaned as she proceeded to work through his heavily tangled curls.

«You're right, because you are always what's wrong me with,» she teased back, feeling her heart beat slightly faster as she thought about it, but ignored her own weird behaviour as the pressure subsided. «You bring out the worst in me.»

«Mission accomplished, then,» he turned his head and winked at her.

Kíliel felt her cheeks burn as she tried to focus at her task at hand, and it proved quite impossible. Thekk had thicker hair than even her, and trying to comb it was like trying to cut fabric with a rock. But she refused to give up, so she began at the bottom and worked her way up, through all his locks of thick, brown hair.

Thekk was surprisingly quiet and still while she worked, with no more than a little flinch when she had to be rougher with the worst knots at the back of his head. He was also silent, which was especially unusual for him.

«They say havin' your beard combed is even worse than ya' hair,» he began quietly, his tone wondering and thoughtful. «I can't imagine anythin' to be worse than this.» He chuckled, and gazed at her as she stood beside him and worked on the knots behind his left ear.

«Mother says I probably won't grow a beard, but I'm far from mature, so I might yet,» Kíliel blurted out. Immediately she pressed her lips together. The shock of what she had just revealed to him hit her, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. She wondered why she had told him that. She had not intended to reveal something so personal.

They often talked about this or that, but never anything too personal, as she was cautions about their parents' plans for them. Sometimes she didn't know if she should trust him or not, but being her only friend, she opened herself more and more to him. She needed someone to trust, someone who was not her family.

Thekk raised his eyebrows. He looked at her as she tried to focus on her work again.

«I won't mind if you don't grow a beard,» he suddenly said and shrugged, as if him having opinions about her appearance was nothing strange. But it was.

Kíliel froze for a second at his words, her eyes wide and unblinking as she thought about it. Why should he mind if she grew a beard or not? Because they were to be married? Would he be embarrassed to be married with her if she didn't grow a beard? The more she thought about it, the harder it was to breathe.

«Why not?» Was all she managed to ask, with thousand questions buzzing inside her head.

Thekk shrugged and looked away. «Why should I mind it? I'm marrying you, not your chin, with or without a beard.» He bit his lip, his brows furrowed as he looked back at her. «It doesn't change you if you have one or not, you'll still be Kíliel.»

She thought about it, but she didn't agree with him. It would change everything; anything that proved her a dwarf made a big difference. He couldn't understand, with being the perfect, dwarven prince, without manners or anything that made him royal, he was the one they had chosen for her to marry. In the Council's eyes he was the heir, while she was just a problem.

«It doesn't matter,» Kíliel bit down on her inner cheek. «Nobody knows anything about me, not you and not my mother, so we'll have to wait and see.»

«I'm probably not finished growin' before I'm forty. Dad says he was a late shiner, so I might be too,» Thekk said and pursed his lips. He then turned to her with a curious gaze and a little grin. «When do ya' think you're finished maturing'?»

He meant nothing by it, but Kíliel suddenly felt suffocated. Her damp hair and clothes clung to her skin, and she wished she could take it all off to breathe more easily. She exhaled heavily instead and rolled her neck to relax. She didn't know why she reacted this way, and this entire day was getting to her. She wished she could go to bed and sleep for a hundred years, then maybe everything would be fine.

When she didn't answer again, Thekk turned to her again. «You sure there's nothin' wrong with cha'? You're very quiet…»

«I don't know, okay?» She exclaimed in frustration, and yanked at a knot in the back of his neck so Thekk yelped in sudden pain.

«Hey,» he growled.

«I'm sorry,» Kíliel exhaled and began massaging his scalp where she had yanked. «I'm tired, thats all.»

«You could've just said, instead of scalping me,» Thekk muttered and looked at her with smiling eyes, to ease the tension between them. He didn't understand a thing of what was going on, but he knew it was better to ask for peace rather than war when dwarrowdames were mad. He reckoned it was the same for dwelfdames.

«I said I was sorry,» Kíliel pressed her lips together, and wished she had not entered Thekk's stall in the first place, but she had to finish her work, or he'd never let her hear the end of it. So she worked quickly to finish the little that was left.

Thekk sat quietly, touching the short stubbles on his chin like her father sometimes did. She knew it was a sign of nervousness, though she could not understand what he was thinking or what he was nervous about.

«Well, I… I sometimes fear that I won't grow a full beard,» he suddenly stuttered, and then shrugged.

Kíliel let her hands fall as she finished untangling his last lock of hair, and put down the comb on the little bench beside the stool where Thekk sat. She pressed her lips together, and turned away from him. An unexpected rage grew in her, and she could not fully understand it, all she knew was that he had said it to ease her embarrassment. And she was suddenly so angry she could not contain it.

Thekk turned and looked at her with a crooked expression. She stood turned away, with one hand on the top of the stall wall and the other in a tight fist. «You're done, and my parents are waiting for me,» she said through clenched teeth.

«Do ya' want me to comb yours before you go?» He asked her, as if his previous words were suddenly forgotten. He took the comb in his hand and stepped closer to her.

She turned to him abruptly. Angry tears were in her eyes, threatening to roll down her cheeks. «I promised mother to come straight back,» she said, even if she had wanted to scream at him. She turned to walk away from him and the stall.

Thekk stood left, and though he said nothing to stop her, she could feel his eyes burn holes in the back of her neck as she walked with quick and uneven steps away from him.

—

Kíliel did not explain to her parent's why she was so late, for they had to rush back to their chambers to prepare for the feast. She dreaded it, as she knew she would sit beside Thekk the whole night. She could not explain her reaction, and she had a feeling he had many questions.

«It always ends this way,» Náli exhaled frustrated while combing aggressively through Kíliel's still damp curls. The girl kept her mouth shut tightly even through the pain. «You don't think on your actions, and I am left with finding the solution. What am I supposed to do with this, _naith_?» The dry-nurse held up knotted locks of her hair with a hopeless expression, so Kíliel saw it in the mirror she stood in front of.

«I forgot the time,» Kíliel shrugged, but felt the guilt burn in her stomach for Náli's stress. «Mother was supposed to do it, but…» she trailed off, as she did not know how to end the sentence. She didn't even want to tell Náli about what had happened with Thekk, which meant it was really bothering her.

She was still wearing the damp bathing tunic, and it was only an hour before the horn would signal the beginning of the feast. It was no wonder Náli worried to get her finished for the celebration in time. She was the princess and one of the heirs of Erebor, so she was always on display during large, social gatherings. Everyone's eyes would be on her, the future queen, and so her hair could not be its usual, wild self. The dwarves of Erebor already mistrusted her for her unusual heritage, so looking like a dwarven princess was essential to show respect for their traditions.

«There's not much to do about that now,» Náli shook her head and sighed, though her expression eased ever so little, as she saw the guilty and distressed expression that grew on Kíliel's face. The dwarrowdam turned to her, and placing a hand on each side of her face, she kissed her forehead. «Don't worry, child. Change now, we'll see about that hair afterwards,» Náli smiled briefly, though warmly, and she turned quickly to fetch something from the other chamber.

The dry-nurse looked one last time upon the girl whom she had come to love as her own, and the despair in her chest was ever heavier as Kíliel grew more and more. She knew the girl would never lead an easy life, both as a dame and as the mistrusted heir.

Náli herself was a young dwarrowdam, unusually so for having a job away from the halls of her father, but it was with good reason. Her husband had fought in the Battle of the Five Armies, and died shortly after of a wound to his lungs that the healers could do nothing about. At that time Náli was with child, and in her sorrow she miscarried, and lost the child before it was even born. As a young widow of 79 winters, she struggled greatly the following years, with no purpose in her life. When Tauriel came to Erebor and gave birth, she volunteered to help take care of the unique and beautiful girl, whom others thought unnatural and unworthy. In this task Náli found her purpose again, and while being a help to Tauriel and Kíli, she became the friend and caretaker of Kíliel.

Kíliel sighed as Náli left the room, thinking that she would never look like a princess. She ripped her clothes off. Naked and bitter she stood in front of the mirror, biting on the inside of her cheek, thinking all her angry thoughts. She was no dwarf. She was beardless, hairless and…

Staring at herself in the mirror, she suddenly realised that it wasn't true. She stood staring at the mirrored image of herself, her tangled, damp hair hanging over her soft but small shoulders. Something had changed. She tilted her head slightly, trying to understand what it meant. After a moment she let her finger trace downwards from her bellybutton, feeling the soft down of hair where it had never been before, and now suddenly had appeared. She looked down on herself, and then up again at her reflection. It was red like her hair, but harder and softer at the same time as it grew in a downward direction.

Kíliel didn't know if she should laugh or cry, as thousands of emotions grew in her. Dwarves had hair covering their entire bodies, so unlike the elves whom had nothing except what grew on their heads. Now knowing that she had at least some of the visual evidence that made her more of a dwarf, it made her lighter than she had ever felt before.

At this new discovery she began studying the rest of her body as well, seeing if it had appeared anywhere else; on her legs, chest, under her arms or on her back. But it was only in the triangle between her hips that it had appeared, and she treasured it.

At continuing to study her body she noticed something else. As she let her hand caress over her chest, she felt the same pain as before in the bathing hall. The pain was coming from the two slight bulges that had suddenly appeared there, and Kíliel could scream for her excitement. Her chest was no longer completely flat like a boy's. She knew what this all meant, the growth of hair and breasts, and she grinned sheepishly.

She had finally begun maturing. _Izn_ _ê_ _d_ , as it was named in Khuzdul.

Kíliel stepped even closer to the mirror, so that she stood tight against it. She stared at herself, held her own gaze for a long time, blinking amazed as she thought about it. Who knew what could happen to her? Maybe she would grow tall like an elf, or wide as a dwarf, or both. She giggled at the thought. Her smiled widened even more as she had another thought, and she whispered to herself: «Maybe I'll even grow a beard,» and she sighed, not wanting to trust the hope too much.

It was while she studied herself so that Náli reentered the room.

«Kíliel, why are you not dressed? There's a mere thirty minutes 'til the feast,» the dry-nurse said exasperated and placed a bundle of thread and hair-bands on the bed.

At that Kíliel turned to her, and stood silent while Náli looked at her with a puzzled expression. Finally she saw, and her expression softened into a happy smile, immediately shaded with worry and despair, though she kept it thoroughly hidden from the excited girl. She only smiled, and stepping closer to Kíliel she hugged her tightly, and stroke her cheek.

At that moment Tauriel stepped through the chamber door, dressed in a beautiful, green tunic designed after the dwarven pattern, with white, silk trousers underneath. Her hair was braided into three braids, with two hanging down beside her face and one on her back. The top of her hair was braided with small braids like a crown around her head, which collected at the back.

Now seeing her daughter, still naked, embracing her dry-nurse, Tauriel cleared her throat, more as a reaction to an unexpected sight than an interruption. Both Kíliel and Náli turned to her suddenly, and the dwarf backed instinctually away, as to give way for the mother.

Tauriel and Náli had a close relationship, as Náli's offer to help her with the raising of her child had been a great relief to Tauriel in her early years living in Erebor, a strange, new place surrounded by dwarves whom mostly mistrusted her. They confided in each other, and while Tauriel loved Náli for teaching her about the dwarven culture and the language, Náli loved Tauriel for giving her friendship and the permission to love Kíliel as her own. They respected and trusted each other, and that was why it was not strange for Tauriel to see the two embracing. However she did not approve of Kíliel's indecency, being an elf and strictly schooled in manners, whereas dwarves were a bit more carefree on the subject.

«Kíliel, you are no longer a child, and parading around in nothing but your hair is not…,» Tauriel began in her motherly strict voice, before she laid eyes on her child, and noticed, as Náli had, the changes in the girl. The words suddenly stuck in her throat, and she felt her heart fall heavy in her chest, realising, as she had said, that Kíliel was no longer a child. Indeed she was maturing, and this was unwelcome news for the elf, whom only desire was to protect and love the girl, away from the harshness of the world.

«The _Izn_ _ê_ _d_ has begun, and it is the great journey that will transform you into your true self, Kíliel,» Náli began and placed a hand on Tauriel's arm. « _Kulhu Mahal id-abkh_ _â_ _n masan_.»

Kíliel lowered her gaze then suddenly, and staring at the floor she muttered: «I have still not bled.»

At this a great smile stretched on Tauriel's face, proud and nostalgic as only a mother could be at this time in her daughter's life. Tears collected in her eyes as she stepped towards Kíliel and placed her hands on the girls cheeks.

«My Starlight. Indeed you are no longer a child. You are changing, and that is a blessing,» Tauriel caressed her cheeks as she held her daughter close. «But do not be so quick to grow. Illuvatar made everything, and by His song we live our lives. Trust him, if nothing else, and know that in your time you will grow exactly as is planned for you, my dear _Iellig_ , and know that you will always be my daughter, no matter how much you grow,» Tauriel laughed sweetly and kissed both of Kíliel's cheeks. The girl laughed and hugged her mother tightly, and Tauriel cared little that her hair was still wet and would leave stains on her fine tunic.

Náli observed them silently, and felt the love she bore for them both beat in her heart.

Tauriel finally loosened her hold on her daughter, and holding her in front of her, she caressed her face and smiled exasperated. «And now we must do something about your hair.»

* * *

**Translation** :

_marlûnaê (khuzdul) = my love_  
_Kherakh udu Naragzudnu (khuzdul) = Torture instrument from Mordor_  
_Naith (khuzdul) = Girl_  
_Iznêd (khuzdul) = growing, the act of growing_  
_Kulhu Mahal id-abkhân masan (khuzdul) = What Mahal designs is perfect/pure_  
_Iellig (sindarin) = daughter_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say anything but Im so sorry for taking this long on finishing this chapter! I know its unforgivable, but I have had almost no time for any kind of creativity, so I humbly appologize, and hope you will love this chapter as I do! ^^
> 
> AND FINALLY SOME PUBERTY FOR KILIEL  
> (You have No idea how long ive been waiting for this part! Hold on, my dear readers, for the future chapters will be alot more exciting! :D )
> 
> And PLEASE dont be shy to tell me your thoughts, I always love to discuss the dwarvish lifestyle! ;)
> 
> OH and at 40 years of age, Kiliel is roughly 10 dwelf years, which is the perfect time to enter that worst puberty phase! ;)


	7. The Feast of Mithril

Stepping out of her chambers that evening, Kíliel felt as though she was an entirely different girl from the one she'd been waking up that morning. She could not explain it. She saw with new eyes, breathed with a stronger sense of smell, walked with a steadier pace, and felt with fingers determined and yet curious. All of this was because she had entered the Iznêd, and she could not contain her excitement for what else was to come as she matured.

Kíliel couldn't but grin as she entered the festival hall with her family, seeing the ocean of dwarves rise before them as they took place at the head table, far south in the hall. It was a table hewn out of stone, much like the table in the Council chamber, on a stage a few feet above the ground in the hall.

Being princess, Kíliel had always both loved and dreaded the attention of an official gathering. She loved attention, for whomever she talked to, they would instantly come to like her, and yet she felt the fear in her heart, knowing that some thought her unfit for the throne, and that there was nothing she could do about it.

Today was different. For the first time in her life, Kíliel did not want to hide from all the staring gazes, quite the contrary. If she could've had it her way, she would have wanted to go naked, so that everyone could see her changing body. They would know that she was also a dwarf, and maybe they could understand that she could be their future queen. She sighed. She knew of course that she could not show off the part of her that was dwarvish, but just knowing it in her heart, she felt there was hope. Now that she knew it for herself, she felt confident she could convince the council dwarves as well.

Her heart beat heavily in her chest thinking of it all.

Kíliel was standing in front of the people of Erebor, next to her mother and father on the right side of Thorin's chair, as they all waited for the King to enter. The entire hall was filled with dwarves, and they were all quiet as Thorin entered, walking beside Fíli and Altar. Kíliel clenched her jaw as she saw the dark-haired, blue-eyed dwarfling behind them. Aín looked his normal, arrogant self, as he walked beside his father, behind his grandfather. His narrow eyes held Kíliel's in a look of self-righteousness, and she wanted to wipe the smug expression off his face.

He was walking in the trail of the King, as only a handful dwarves were ever honoured with. He was shown this honour because his grandfather was Council Leader, giving Aín the honour by default, and the option of becoming a Council member himself when he came off age.

Since that day he had grasped her arm in the class room, Aín had kept more away from her, and gotten closer and closer to Fíli and Thorin. Thorin was stubborn, and after the incident in the training area he had not trusted Aín, but Fíli was more forgiving and open to giving Aín a second chance at showing his worth, which the boy had eagerly taken. He was clever, and he knew that gaining Fíli's trust was the most secure way to get a seat in the council, to become a dwarf of influence.

After all that had happened between them, Kíliel was outraged he could be considered to be a part of the Council that she would one day rule… with Thekk, of course.

It was at this that Kíliel finally realised that Thekk and his family were not yet here. She turned to see if they sat anywhere else, but there were three open seats next to her, and she knew those were their seats. She turned back to see if they came after Thorin, and yet she could not see them. Kíliel kept her eye at the entrance, while her foot tapped impatiently on the floor, as she waited to see his bouncing curls in the archway.

Thorin had finally made his way to his high chair, and sat down by the sound of a thousand dwarves settling in their own seats. He sat quietly for a moment, before he rose his arms and his voice rang over the hall with all his kingly might: « _Sanzigil Mahalu khajam du khazâd_. Let the feast begin!» and the dwarves rejoiced, cheering for their king and for the meat that was suddenly being put out on all the tables.

The trays bearing cooked meat of boars, pigs, horses, large birds and fish were also decorated with actual mithril, illuminating the splendour of the feast. The dust gleamed as light bounced around the hall. Nothing was spared in the preparation for this feast.

It was not only the meat trays that were decorated. Not a single dwarf in the entire hall was clad in anything but their finest. With bejewelled tunics and vests, gold and silver, and some even wore mithril, attached to newly combed beards and hair. It seemed as though the entire hall was gleaming in the light erupting from many light-sources in the ceiling. Between the squared holes ran veins of sapphire and ruby, but it was the mithril stalactites that dripped in huge icicles from the ceiling that the hall was renowned for. These were the reasons for the enthralling light display that bounced around the hall. The fire from the thousands of torches lit around the room, as well as the white rays of the late winter sun, came together and made a harmony of colours in the light that every piece of jewellery in the hall gathered and reflected so uniquely.

This was the sight that this holiday was reflecting, the coming of spring and the light of the new year that the dwarves treasured, the light of Mithril. From Kíliel's seat it was a memorable sight, and she couldn't but stare out over the masses as they talked and laughed, with light reflecting from silvery ear-clasps and golden hair-band.

«It is beautiful,» Kíliel mouthed to herself as she exhaled of the marvellous sight.

«Not as beautiful as you, Your Highness,» she heard a voice mutter behind her and she turned so abruptly she stood up, causing her chair to topple. It fell to the ground with a hollow thud. Behind her stood Thekk of course, and she rolled her eyes and bent down to raise the chair as a servant did the same.

«Why must you always startle me like that?» Kíliel sighed as she settled on the chair again, and thanked the helpful servant.

«Well, I owed you one from this mornin',» Thekk looked as if he was about to burst with laughter, but managed to keep his face straight as he settled in the chair next to her.

«Thekk! Is that how you speak to your our Princess?» Éira snapped at her son and slapped the top of his head, before she turned to Kíliel. «I have tried to teach him how to behave, but it seems to have been in vain,» She shook her head and laid an apologetic hand on Kíliel's shoulder before she sat down beside Thekk. Kíliel giggled.

«I was only joking, mom!» Thekk muttered annoyed at his mother's reaction.

«The young must have their fun, you understand Éira. Kíliel doesn't mind, now, do you, lass?»

Dárin laid a massive hand on her back and Kíliel shook her head smiling. «Of course not.»

«Well, of course she's gonna say that with you two ganging up on her,» Éira scoffed and rolled her eyes as both her husband and her son grinned widely. She turned to Kíliel and placed a soft hand on hers, leaning over Thekk whom sat between them. «You must come to me if you ever tire of either of them, I'll get it sorted,» she winked with a clever smile, and Kíliel squeezed her hand lightly, smiling widely at their playful way.

She was happy to see them recovering from the loss of their daughter, five years earlier. A cloud had long hovered over the family, and it had taken a few years before she saw the lightly humour they used when they were gathered like this. Dárin especially had taken the loss hard, and he had on many occasions stayed in, not being able to live through the festivities after the loss of his daughter, or so Kíli had said when Kíliel had eavesdropped on her parents.

«And I hear I have you to thank for my son's combed hair. He hasn't let me do it for the last couple of years, and I fear it wasn't done properly before today,» Éira giggled and caressed Thekk's hair, which was now fashioned into three large braids across his head, much like his father's, and yet there was a lot left to hang lose around his shoulders.

« _Amad_!» Thekk groaned and leaned away from his mother's embrace, and Kíliel grinned. She enjoyed seeing him brought down from his high horse for once.

«You're very welcome,» she said happily to Éira, and noticed how Thekk's cheeks turned slightly red.

Thekk rolled on his shoulders as his parents turned back to each other, and gave the young some privacy to talk amongst themselves. It was a side of him Kíliel rarely saw, and it amused her greatly. He always seemed so calm and carefree, but for the first time in a long time she was reminded that he was not much older than her. Actually he was seven years younger than her, but being half elven, Kíliel grew slower than the dwarven children her age, and that was yet another thing she hated about it. Had she only known how much she would come to change during her Izned, she would not have wished for it so soon.

Kíliel gazed at Thekk while food was brought to them by the servants, and their cups were filled with red-wine. Dwarves had no age limit to their drinking, but elves did, and Tauriel sent Kíliel a look she knew well. Had she not been so happy for her sudden maturing, she might have wished to cross her mother's wishes, as she sometimes did. Today everything was different. Even the strict gazes from her mother could not upset Kíliel on this day. Therefore she sipped the wine carefully, and happily ate the tender lamb that was her favourite, as well as a few pieces of fish and vegetables that Tauriel demanded of her.

Thekk was silent for a while, though he gazed at her once in a while and looked as if he had difficulty chewing his food. Kíliel did not know what to make of it, and decided to leave it be. If he did not want to talk to her that was his choice, and she would not push him, though obviously she was wrong.

«But you are truly beautiful,» Thekk suddenly leaned in and whispered to her, and again it surprised her so she almost swallowed wrong the piece of meat she chewed on. She looked at him with a misbelieving grimace.

Her hair was still damp, though braided with golden and silver threads, matching her golden vest, over the light green tunic she was wearing. She wore heavy rings, and ear clasps of gold, and yet she did not feel beautiful. It was the one thing she knew she was not, for she was too much dwarf to be a beautiful elf, and she was too much elf to be a beautiful dwarf.

«Now you're being silly again,» she scoffed and shook her head in disbelief.

«What? Don't cha' believe me?» Thekk pretended to be upset as he gasped theatrically.

«Of course, because you are always so trustworthy when it comes to such things,» Kíliel raised a brow and ate a piece of lamb. «Please,» she muttered ironically with a full mouth, which her mother would have scolded upon had she seen it. It would seem that Thekk had indeed a bad influence on her.

«You're a woman soon, you'll have to learn to take a compliment,» Thekk almost sounded educating, had he not overdone it with pursing his lips and speaking with an ironical accent, rolling the S-es excessively. «Or it is just bad manners.»

«I will, if you ever give me a compliment I can believe. Besides, I'm the princess! I can do what I want,» Kíliel grinned widely, showing all her teeth in her most charming smile.

«Well, that attitude is not very attractive,» Thekk smiled with one brow lifted, and Kíliel snorted.

«When did you begin worrying yourself with 'attractiveness' and 'beauty'?» Kíliel flipped her hair with a fancy swing of her hand, as she had seen mature dwarven women do when they courted men, and she dashed her eyelashes with a mocking expression. «That doesn't seem like the Thekk I know. Have you truly changed? _Khuzd binfasl_?»

Thekk snorted with laughter, snapping for air as his mouth fell open and he jerked his eyebrows upwards, clearly surprised that the princess knew such words of insults, but he was slightly impressed as well. He definitely was a bad influence on her, but his own reaction was perhaps evidence of her influence on him in return.

«Girls like you should definitely not know such words,» Thekk chuckled, too entertained to bother act strict.

«Maybe I'm not the kind of girl you think I am,» and she threw him a clever smile with narrow eyes, speaking of mischief and unexplored adventure.

Thekk suddenly felt very light headed. Her gaze was intense, but it was not an uncomfortable feeling, and while he struggled to breathe naturally, he could not think of anything to say in reply. He could not take his eyes off her for that one moment. He took a mouthful of his wine as an excuse while he tried to think, but there was little luck. He blinked a few times, while swallowing slowly, and Kíliel grinned.

«Well, my good prince, I do believe I've silenced you,» and she leaned closer to him, patting his arm patronisingly. «Give me a moment while I tell your mother I clearly do not need her help in that department.»

Thekk wrinkled his nose with narrow eyes, shaking off the strange feeling as he returned to himself. He stared at her with an annoyed expression. «You are not so funny, Kíliel, it doesn't suit cha',» and he raised his eyebrows with a clever smirk on his lips.

«Oh, and you are?» Kíliel snorted and stabbed the remaining piece of lamb with her fork before ruthlessly cutting it in two. She shot him a quick, ironical glance. «Of course, I forgot: you know everything.»

«That's right. I forgive ya' your ignorance,» Thekk straightened in his seat, and looked down on her with a crooked smile.

Kíliel snorted as she shook her head in annoyance and took another sip of the wine. The strong, warm taste spread through her mouth, and even if she had only had a few sips she thought she felt the soft numbness spreading through her limbs and fingers.

Thekk was obviously more affected than her, having downed two glasses already, as his parents seemed to care little for his drinking. Therefore, before she said anything, Thekk noticed something new, and he reached over to take the pin she had fastened her braids with. It was a beautiful, silver hair-pin, unlike anything he had seen made by dwarven hands. It was slender and yet hard, with fine red flowers attached like on branches, and rubies were fastened to them. It looked so fragile, yet he felt it was strong.

«What is this?» Thekk asked curiously, being a young smith in the making and constantly looking for new designs to explore, but Kíliel snapped it from his fingers before he had the opportunity to study it further, or ruin it with his clumsy hands.

«It was a gift,» Kíliel muttered and caressed it with a careful touch before fasting it again to the braids on the back of her head. Thekk looked at it with a curious gaze.

«Who's it from then? I've never seen anything like it,» his voice was full of wonder, and Kíliel looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. She wondered if she should tell him, not knowing if he would be upset hearing about Legolas.

«It's elven,» she said finally, watching Thekk to see his reaction. He did not look surprised or angry as she had expected. «Legolas, of the woodland realm of Mirkwood, gave it to me many years ago. My mother grew up with him, and they are close friends.» She felt her voice falter slightly at his name, but she acted like nothing was wrong.

She sighed. Only mentioning his name awoke the longing in her heart to see him again, but it was many years since he had last come visiting, and she did not know when he would come again. It had been some time since she had thought of Legolas now, but her desire to see him was no smaller than it ever was, and wearing the pin she felt he was a little closer to her.

«Mirkwood, eh'? I've heard about them, never had the pleasure, though,» Thekk smiled at her, sweet and innocent, and in that moment she truly believe him.

«He is actually the first elf ever to be granted free access to Erebor,» Kíliel felt a blush colour her cheeks as she talked about him, her first and only love. She would probably have not spoken so freely of him had it not been for the wine.  
She noticed Thekk turning slightly harder. His lips lost the softness and turned into a harder line than she had ever seen him with, and a flicker of fear crossed her thoughts. She had never talked about Legolas to anyone before, and maybe it was a mistake. Dwarves, prejudice or not, were never especially fond of elves.

«Why don't he come here more often, then?» Thekk pursed his lips and looked at her with weighing eyes.

Kíliel didn't know what to say, for she did not know the answer. She would have liked to ask Legolas the same thing, and as always a thousand questions began circling in her head. Was it her fault he wasn't coming back? Had she done something wrong? Did he not like her? And as always she felt the anxiety grow in her chest thinking of the answers.

When she was about to open her mouth to answer, Thekk mumbled: «What's happnin' now?» His gaze was locked at something to her left, and Kíliel turned abruptly to see what he spoke of.

Fear stroke her heart, for turning around she saw her grandfather half standing, with her father and uncle trying to hold him back. Thorin had a hard and yet confused expression on his face, as he waved his hand, still holding a cup with wine that spilled over the table and Kíli, as his nephews tried to calm him down.

«What is going on? Mother?» Kíliel laid a hand on Tauriel's arm, and the elf turned quickly to her daughter. Her eyes were wrought in worry as she spoke.

«I don't know, dear. Thorin suddenly began muttering about the dragon, and…,» Tauriel was interrupted by the sound of Thorin's cup hitting the floor, as he, Kíli and Fíli were basically wrestling, all three standing together before the table, knocking cups and plates over as they tried to calm Thorin.

The hall quickly turned quiet, and all that could be heard were the grunts and mutterings of Fíli and Kíli: «Uncle, settle down!», «Everything is fine, Thorin!»

«Let go of me! I do not need your help, I'm not a child!» Thorin shook the hands of his nephews off of him, and straightened as someone about to make a speech.

Kíliel stood halfway from her chair, as she beheld her grandfather with a worried and vigilant expression. She did not understand what had happened. She tightened and released her fist restlessly, wanting to cut in and make sure everything was as it should be. Thekk took a firm hold on her hand, steadying her in her anxiety. He too watched intently, weighing the situation.

But Thorin stood alone before the eyes of everyone in the hall. Kíliel desperately wanted to go to him, but she didn't know what was to happen, and she knew she had to be rational, act maturely and give Thorin the space to return to normal without her unnecessary involvement. There had been too much attention already, with Kíli and Fíli interfering.

«People of Erebor…,» Thorin began, his voice somewhat lesser than his usual regality, and he had a bewildered expression as he turned and locked eyes with Kíliel for a mere moment. She could not know what he was thinking, but he looked more uncertain than she had ever seen him, and it cut deep in her chest to see him this way. Her grandfather was strong, mighty, regal and no one could question his authority; that was not the dwarf she was now watching.

«You must all remain strong throughout this hard time,» Thorin continued. His voice had regained some of its former might, but it still had a hint of confusion to it.

A mutter arose among the dwarves, wondering what exactly their King was speaking of. They exchanged looks, and returned to Thorin with even more confused expressions on their faces. And Kíliel felt her heart beat faster and faster, her fingers prickled with want to take action, to go to her grandfather and help him become himself again. There was something very wrong with him, and she wanted to shield him from the judging stares of every dwarf there.

«Today, with the help of my nephews…,» Thorin leaned his hand on the table and took a deep breath as if preparing for something. Kíliel couldn't breathe for her anxiety, and it seemed like the entire hall was keeping its breath along with her. Thorin finally raised his head and opened his mouth with a roar: «WE WILL KILL THE DRAGON!»

There was a moment of deafening silence, everyone looking at Thorin with a shocked expression, wondering what this was all about. Then the people turned to their drinking companions and began laughing. The sound of it rolled throughout the hall. They thought it was a joke. But Kíliel felt her heart break, for she knew it was not what her grandfather meant, and she saw his expression grow ever more confused, wondering how they could all laugh at him at a time like this.

«Li… listen to me,» Thorin mumbled, his expression furious and confused. Suddenly touching his head, he stumbled and steadied himself so not to fall. He stood leaning back and forth with his hands firmly planted on the table in front of him, as one consumed with ales or suffering from head-spins.

«Grandfather,» Kíliel squealed, only loud enough for the ones sitting closest to her to hear. Tauriel turned to her daughter, and carefully touching her hand, she nodded to her, as if saying she should go to him.

Kíliel sent Thekk a pained look, and he nodded understanding, before she slid her hand out of his. He had held her tight the entire time, and it wasn't before she let go of his hand that she noticed how secure his hold had been, how it had supported her. The air felt cold to the memory of his grip, and she felt very light and alone without it. It was only a quick notion, for she focused mainly on Thorin, but the thought would stick with her longer than she could have imagined.

When Kíliel walked to stand beside her grandfather's chair, Kíli and Fíli were silently arguing, not noticing her before she laid a hand on Thorin's shoulder. His big hand moved to cover hers, and he turned to meet her scared eyes.

« _Nadan_ ,» He said, his voice kind, but still with the bewildered edge to it.

Kíliel made sure he held her gaze steadily, and she laid her hands on either side of his face, now that he sat down again. «Grandfather,» she began carefully, whispering so only they could hear. «The dragon has been dead for 42 years.» She caressed his bearded cheek and saw the confusion grow and change in his eyes as he blinked, trying to comprehend her words.

«This is the feast of Mithril. Do you not remember?» Kíliel spoke softly, knowing that whatever was wrong with him, she would have to be calm so that he could relax in his strange state of mind.

«No! No, that is wrong, I…» Thorin muttered, and closing his eyes he sighed heavily, as one tired after an intense training session.

He opened his eyes and looked at her again. His eyes had regained that which made them Thorin's, and Kíliel looked intently at him, trying to see if he had returned to himself.

«Grandfather?» Kíliel asked under her breath, trying to keep tears from filling her eyes of fear for the dwarf she loved.

«Kíliel,» He said then, his voice breathless and his breathing was shallow. But Kíliel's heart fluttered, knowing that he was again himself, and the confusion was now not as frightening as it had been.

«Where am I?» He muttered, and his eyes moved slowly back and forth, trying to comprehend his surroundings. But Kíliel couldn't but throw her arms around his neck as she felt a single tear release from the corner of her eye.

«Now, now, lass,» Thorin held her tight for a long moment. Kíliel breathed in the strong, soothing scent of the fur on his collar, before she released her hold on him and looked upon his face again.

«I'm sorry,» she muttered, and wiped her face, as she felt the hand of her father on her shoulder suddenly. Kíli looked at his daughter and then his uncle with a worried expression, weighing them both.

«Uncle?» He asked, and the question was too obvious in this tone.

«Yes, Kíli, I am tired. Maybe Kíliel could follow me back to my chambers?» And she straightened immediately to follow him out. «You and your brother will stay and continue the celebration in my stead.» He muttered softly, even as it was an order, and he rose from the chair. His voice now finally revealed how fatigued he was.

«Come, grandfather,» Kíliel hooked her arm in his so that he could lean on her, would he need to. They walked slowly away, to the sound of a thousand dwarves standing up, and then her uncle's explanations that the party would go on, even if their King did not feel up to the festivities.

 

* * *

 

**Translations(only Khuzdul this time):**

  
Sanzigil Mahalu khajam du khazâd = Mithril is Mahals gift to the dwarves  
Amad = mother  
Khuzd binfasl? = dwarf without male genital organ (I imagine it to be a very light but naughty insult, not as heavy as insulting somones beard f example)  
Nadan = child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this chapter is so late, I am well aware, and I appologize on the heaviest!  
> With summer vacation, my brain turned fully off and my inspiration reserved for sketching everything Silmarillion, this chapter has been very neglected, even if it had been close to finish for many weeks, I just couldnt make myself do it for some reason! I hope you forgive me, but I love it nontheless!
> 
> So there are a little mention of Legolas, much so that you will not forget him, though I cannot have him return to the story yet, it doesnt fit with my timeline, and I want Kíliel to mature a lot before she sees him again. But he will return in not too long, I hope.. Who knows how long this fic will become x)
> 
> But I appreciate your patience with me, and every feedback is feeding my inspiration and motivation for this fic, so please dont feel like you are bothering me with comments, because that is impossible! <3


	8. Charming smiles and sweet words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I understand if this chapter is weird and confuses you a bit, but there is a meaning behind it, and I hope you can take the time to analyse Aín and his change in character, and tell me exactly what you think. It is a bit of an experiment, and i hope you wont hate me for it. You will understand later! ;)

«TODAY WE WILL KILL THE DRAGON!»

The words rang in her head as she walked through the silent halls of the Mountain. Now and then she passed a serving dwarf, restless children playing or anyone else who were not in the Hall of Mithril, but it was very few to speak of, and none took any notice of her. No one wanted to miss the festivities, even if the King had returned to his chambers.

This was a happy day, but Kíliel felt the tears rise in her eyes, and the lump in her throat only grew as she tried to swallow her fear. No matter how calmly she tried to breathe, inhale and exhale as her mother had taught her to do in stressful situations, it had no effect. As a drop released from her eye she could not hold it in any longer, and she ran around the corner and into an empty chamber. It was a storage of some kind. She sat down on one of the barrels as she succumbed to the sobbing that rolled through her body. Tears and snot streamed down her face no matter how much she tried to wipe it away, and her small shoulders shook violently as she heaved for breath between her sobs.

Having led Thorin back to his rooms, her old grandfather had leaned much on her, and his unsteadiness was one of the first signs that awoke the fear in her heart. Second was his loss of time and his surroundings, as well as the wonder in his eyes when he had first looked at her, not recognising her as he usually would immediately. It was wrong, so wrong that he had for a moment not been himself, and the fear in her rolled like a beast, uncontrollable as it played the whole scene over and over inside her head, trying to force her to see the truth.

Thorin was getting old, he was indeed the longest living dwarf of his kin, and she knew that his symptoms were all symptoms of dementia and eventually death. It was disgraceful and unwanted for a dwarf to die of old age rather than in battle with an axe in his hand.

All these aspects fed her fear more and more as she thought of it over and over again, and there was only one thought going through her head after it all: Thorin would die, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Kíliel wailed, screaming out her frustration, fear, desperation, for she had never felt so hopeless and powerless as she did in this moment. She held her arms tightly about herself, and she cared little that she creased her tunic or that her hair was ruined. None of it mattered when her grandfather was sick.

The sobbing eventually subsided, and after a while she sat quietly on the barrel, holding herself while all the world crumbled about her feet. It was then that she noticed that the door was pushed open, and she did not look up, not wanting to show her swollen eyes and runny nose to anyone, least of all Thekk. For who else came looking for her, and wouldn't introduce themselves when they saw the princess of Erebor sitting like this? She felt her heart lighten, not because Thekk could fix anything, but because she knew she could share her pain with him.

He sat down beside her and slowly he placed his arms around her, his grip firm as his hand held around her arm. Kíliel sighed heavily and leaned against his shoulder, automatically inhaling the sweet scent that was on his furry collar. Suddenly her heart stopped, because Thekk had not been wearing a furry collared vest, and the long black hair falling over his shoulders were far from Thekk's soft, brown curls.

She held her breath as she slowly raised her head and looked straight into Aín's ice-blue eyes. She froze for a second, but her insides were screaming to get away from him. She hadn't had him this close since he had grabbed her arm five years ago. And she had wanted to keep it that way.

Unlike Kíliel, Aín had a peaceful expression as he raised his hand to wipe a tear away from her cheek. The touch of his fingers was like a shock that awoke her frozen body. Kíliel stumbled to her feet, fighting to get out of his arms. Her eyes had a look of disgust and shock as she stood a few feet away from him, as far as the small chamber allowed, her chest heaving as she tried to comprehend what had happened.

Aín sat silent, watching her, his head slightly tilted as if wondering why she had moved away from him so suddenly. Kíliel stared at him, trying to find any malice, any sign of evil intent in his gaze, but his eyes were simply kind with a hint of curiosity as he held her gaze steadily.

«What are you doing?» She spoke sharply, her jaw locked with new anger.

«Forgive me, princess, it seemed to me as though you needed comforting?» It was a question, but it was as if it hadn't come from his lips. His voice was different, his kind expression seemed fake as she stared at him, though she had nothing but her gut-feeling and her previous experience with Aín to go by.

«No, no, why are you here? Did you follow me?» She demanded, her voice full of disgust as she creased her eyebrows and a sneer flashed over her face.

This time he didn't answer, he simply smiled, somewhat sad and condescending as he rose from where he sat, and took a step closer to her. He cocked his head to the other side and held his arms out from his body in a submissive gesture, as if saying he had no bad intentions. Kíliel didn't trust him.

«I was shocked by the King's behaviour and I came to see if you needed any help,» he finally said, seeing her misbelieving expression and defensive pose. «Trust me, I meant no offence, princess.»

«Stop calling me that! I will never be your princess!» Kíliel screamed as she took a step towards him. «And I will never trust you! So just go; I want to be alone!» She laid her arms about herself again, and turned halfway away from him, not wanting to lose him out of sight completely. She did not trust him in the least, especially not when they were alone.

He took a step towards her, and he laid his hand carefully over hers. She shook him off and pressed her eyes shut as she felt tears once again fill her eyes. The reality of the situation came back to her, even if Aín had distracted her from her pain for a moment. She would never admit it.

Aín touched her again, and sobbing she could do nothing but lock herself down. No matter what he said she would never succumb to his charm, as she realised her family slowly had begun to. When he again laid his arms around her shoulders, she could only turn away her face, and as he laid his forehead agains her neck, she shuddered, but could do nothing to get out of his embrace.

«Why won't you let me help you?» with certain hands he turned her around in his arms, so that her face pressed into his chest, and the sweetness of his scent made her want to vomit. It would've been a welcomed response, maybe Aín would have let her go, but nothing came, and she couldn't but swallow her disgust.

«Because you don't want to help me…,» Kíliel muttered into his golden vest. «You only help yourself.»

At that Aín held her out from him, and creasing his eyebrows, he looked at her with a wondering expression. He held a hand under her chin and raised her head to him. Then he smiled and caressed her cheek. She noticed how cold his hand was. Compared to Thekk's warm touch, his was ice.

«You are young, Kíliel, what do you know?»

«I am not so young,» she sneered, suddenly remembering this morning and the sudden changes in her body. Had he only known… but never in a million years would she reveal something so personal to him, the boy that made her want to vomit up all the lovely lamb she ate for dinner.

«Oh, no?» Aín asked in a curious tone, with only a hint of irony to it. He stepped back, his eyes moving lazily over her body, and suddenly Kíliel got an itching feeling that he could see through her clothes. «I forget you are not that much younger than me, even if you are half elf.»

Kíliel flinched, expecting the word to cut into her skin, but to her surprise it didn't. He hadn't sneered, there was no sign of disgust on his face, only those calm, ice-blue eyes that held her in a steady gaze. Kíliel looked at him with scrutinising eyes, looking for evidence of his prejudice and loath, but she found nothing. It must've been another one of his tricks.

«What?!» She demanded, her voice somewhere between angry and confused.

«I mean, obviously you'll mature slower than me, being half. I shouldn't be surprised,» and again Kíliel expected his voice to become condescending and loathing, but again it didn't. She blinked, trying to think what he was playing at. But was it truly a game, or could he have changed? It was after all five years since last she'd talked directly to him, as she had worked hard to avoid him ever since the incident in the class-room.

«What happened to 'she-elf'?» Kíliel suddenly sneered with narrow and hard eyes, refusing to believe that this 'new' Aín was real. As she stared at his face to see his reaction, there was a tiny flinch in his expression, a flash of regret in his eyes, but what it meant she could not say for certain. He exhaled before meeting her gaze.

«You know, Kíliel, I am not so young anymore either. The mistakes I've made are my own, though I am not proud of them. I had hoped you could forgive me after all,» he bit his lip and lowered his eyes, and Kíliel wanted to scream at him to stop it. She could not believe this. No one changed so extremely in only five short years. It was not true, and she would not let him manipulate her.

«Why should I? You have given me no reason to think that you are changed,» Kíliel spoke through clenched teeth.

«Why do you think that I am standing here now? I know that you have avoided me for years, and every time you look at me I feel the shame burn in my heart, for believe me, I feel your hate as blazing metal to my bare skin every time you look at me.» He spoke bitterly, and even if it was clear that it was for his own actions, Kíliel couldn't help but be suspicious. «That is why I am here, to show you that _maybe_ you should give me another chance. If I am to be in the Council one day, I would prefer it if we could at least be in the same room without you wanting to murder me,» he said the last with a soft smirk, his hopeful eyes full of a question she knew she could not answer.

«But why? How does anyone go from hating to regret so entirely? I do not understand,» she asked instead, trying to work her thoughts around everything he had ever said, everything he had ever done.

A flash of anguish washed over his face. «When I was a mere babe, my father, mother and grandfather took me from our homeland, Ered Nimras, for the news of the dragon's death and Thorin's victory in the Battle of Five Armies was the promise of a better life for us. Our land was bare, and at the borders of Mordor we struggled with invading orcs and other dark creatures. My parents thought they could give me a better life in Erebor, and with my Grandfather's old friendship with Thror, they hoped to be welcomed. But the trip was not without peril, and at the borders of Lorien we were ambushed by the elves, and only barely managed to escape, all but my mother whom got an arrow in the back, while protecting me in her arms.»

Aín spoke quickly, like if he ever stopped to breathe he wouldn't have been able to continue. When he finished he lowered his head, and exhaled heavily, as if struggling to keep his temper. Kíliel felt a sharp pain in her chest at the mention of his mother's death, feeling all too well the fear of losing Thorin whom stood closest to her heart.

«I am sorry,» Kíliel muttered, feeling a new tear releasing from her eye, remembering with a weight like that of an anvil the fear in her own heart. Aín cleared his throat and looked at her again, his eyes filled with sadness.

«So you see, I did not have the best point of view when it came to elves, and growing up I was full of wrath and hatred for all of them, when it was in truth only the action of few that coloured my eyes. After Fíli's lecture of how unacceptable my actions had been, I saw it clearly and I have tried to make it up to your family ever since.» He straightened in front of her and folded his hands behind his back, his expression sincere and yet repenting.

This new information came as a greater surprise to her than anything he had yet said or done. Had Fíli truly talked to him about it? When was this? She hadn't heard her family talk about Aín since the first time she mentioned him to them, and after she had made sure not to speak of it, as she had not wanted to look weak or immature. This truly explained a lot.

«I had no idea,» she mumbled, her eyes fleeting as she had trouble holding his gaze. This changed so much. But did it mean that she should forgive him everything? She didn't know what to think, and it was an inner battle for what she should do or say next.

«You could not know,» Aín shrugged and smiled crookedly, and Kíliel looked at him finally with wondering eyes, finally seeing the dwarf that stood before her with eyes unclouded by loath.

He was unlike any dwarf she had ever seen. His hair was raven black and completely straight, the top of which was collected in a tight ponytail, with the rest hanging loose. One braid was fashioned on each side of his face, and with one which went into the ponytail at the left side of his head. His hair was certainly thick, but it was still different from that of the dwarves of Erebor. He must be of the Blacklocks, one of the more slender clans of the dwarves, with warmer, olive-coloured skin. Only his eyes did not fit the description of others of his clan, with iced blue irises. His sideburns ran all the way down his cheeks and along his chin, ending in a cleanly kept beard that was braided in a yet short braid. He was still far from fully mature, but she could see that he would end up looking like his grandfather.

Kíliel had never actually noticed anything special about Aín's appearance before, but looking at him now, she saw that he was without a doubt handsome, more so than any dwarf she had ever seen. The combination of his mysterious eyes and his clean cut style, it was in all different, but elegant.

A sudden stab in her chest, as if that of a small needle, surprised her, as well as the instant image of Thekk that arose in her mind. She was filled with a strange regret, as if she had done something so perverse, as if she had broken a deep personal standard, and for some reason she could only think of the brown haired dwarf that would one day be King. A bad feeling arose in her chest, along with a burning desire to see him again. She could not explain any of it.

Kíliel exhaled, focusing her attention again, and even if some things were changed, some yet weren't. After all this there was still a voice in the back of her head whispering that she should not trust him. Even if it was all true what he said, she could not be sure if he only told it to change her opinion of him, and after all that had happened between them she could not forgive him so easily.

«Kíliel?» Aín asked, his voice slightly worried, though Kíliel could not understand why.

As she straightened and met his gaze again, she felt a sudden wave of nausea roll through her body, though this time it had nothing to do with him, and a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. She felt faint and tired and she touched her head as she lost her balance for a second. Aín stepped quickly forward and grabbed her so she didn't fall, and she grabbed a hold of his arm as she tried to steady herself.

«It's nothing,» she mumbled, breathing heavily to regain her balance. «I'm only tired.»

«Shall I take you to your chambers?» Aín asked as he held her arms securely and she tried to stand on her own, without luck. Kíliel nodded and felt her heart beat faster and faster of no apparent reason. She could hardly breathe.

—

As they walked slowly through the Mountain to the Halls of the King, Kíliel found herself leaning almost entirely on Aín, and the notion both confused her and softened her thoughts towards him. Being more than half a head taller than her, he supported her with strong arms, and he made it seem as though she was weightless.

When they entered the Hall of the Kings and were halfway across the massive room, a shape came out of the archway leading to the sleeping chambers. Kíliel was still light headed, struggling to focus, and did not recognise the figure walking towards them. She didn't know who he was before he called across the room.

«Kíliel!» It was the voice of Thekk, and never had she been so happy to see him. He on the other hand was not so thrilled of the sight that met him, and he instantly marched over to them, quicker than his short dwarven legs usually would allow.

When he finally met them on the middle of the floor, Kíliel threw her arms around him. This gesture alone shocked him beyond compare, but as soon as the surprise subsided he focused his attention on Aín that now stood silently watching the floor, his hands on his back.

«What have ya' done with 'er?» Thekk boomed, his voice echoing throughout the hall, making it sound like the roar of a storm rather than the voice of a young dwarfling. He caressed Kíliel's face and brushed away the hair that stuck to her forehead of cold-sweat.

Aín raised his gaze and met his eyes with a calm and humble expression. «I only did as she asked and followed her to her chambers,» his voice was so silent it was a whisper compared to Thekk's rage. «I was only trying to help.»

Thekk narrowed his eyes, almost hissing when he answered: «We do not need your _help_ ,» his voice was venomous and Kíliel felt a sting of sympathy as she vaguely observed the confrontation before her.

«It is as he says, this isn't his fault. I… I don't know what's happening to me,» Kíliel mumbled into his neck. Thekk creased his eyebrows while looking at Aín with a hard gaze, but finally he turned to Kíliel instead.

«Let me follow you to your chambers, Kíliel,» Thekk mumbled and caressed her face again. He secured his hold on her, holding her hand steady in his firm grip as he turned them around to walk to her chambers. The coldness of her skin worried him.

Thekk turned to give Aín one last, mistrusting gaze, and silently he vowed not to let that snake get close to Kíliel ever again. He would make sure of that. No matter how many charming smiles and sweet words Aín would give them, Thekk would never trust him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I owe an explanation for using over a month to publish this... well first I am a freakin lazy ass, secondly september has been THE most stressful month of my life, moving out of the country to live by myself and study in Southampton has been quite a change and very exciting, so giving close to NO time at all to write, so I do hope you forgive me. 
> 
> It is a really short chapter, well to my standard at least, so again im sorry, but I do hope you enjoyed it! ^^


	9. By the Strenght of her Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a grieving father and a mother desperate to support him in his pain, Kíliel must find her own strenght to support them all through this hard time.

Kíliel had been lying in bed for a short while before her parents returned from the feast. She had drifted in and out of sleep full of restless dreams, and it seemed an age since Thekk had put her to bed, and yet mere moments. He had been sitting next to her, holding her hand until she fell asleep, making sure she was all right before leaving her.

She awoke in a haze of fears and terror, and she could not remember much of the confrontation between Thekk and Aín, nor much else of that evening. All she knew was that something was wrong, for it was as if a cold hand had a tight grip around her throat. She struggled to breathe normally.

Kíli and Tauriel moved silently in the next room, and that was the next sign that something was wrong, for they were not usually so cautious and careful after any party. The absence of laughing voices and happy steps was unnerving.

Kíliel sat up in her bed and rubbed her face roughly with her palm, trying to gather her thoughts, but they were still hazed with the rushed awakening. She clumsily slid her feet over the edge of the bed and sat them down on the cold stone-floor. Why could she not remember?

She was still dressed in the festival gown, and she struggled to get it off so that she eventually was dressed only in the light tunic she had worn underneath. Removing the tight and heavy fabric was an ease to her stressed and aching body, and she felt as if she could more easily breathe as she stood almost naked on the cold floor, swaying faintly as she tried to gather her balance.

With dragging steps she walked over to the door, and laid her forehead against it, feeling the cold of the metal integrated in the wood soothe her headache. Her parents were silent on the other side of the door, and she was for a moment terrified that something might be wrong with them. Then she heard the heavy sigh of her father, and her heart stopped, for she remembered.

—

Kíli sat in the leaning chair, his right hand grasping his thigh, which was vibrating with pain. He was starting to realise how severe the old injury was, but it was of no concern at this night. His left hand supported his hanging head, for his thoughts ran wild with worry for his uncle.

Tauriel stood by the dressing chest, removing her tunic and changing into her sleeping gown, her eyes constantly holding Kíli as she saw him reflected in the mirror beside her. His hunched back and defeated posture filled her heart with sadness, and she breathed heavily. After releasing her hair she turned again to him, her expression full of worry.

Walking up to him, Tauriel laid her hands carefully on his shoulders and helped him remove his heavy jacket, and then his tunic. When it was gone Kíli leaned back in the chair, his chin tight as he bit his teeth together. Tauriel slid her hands over his skin and began to carefully massage his tense shoulders. Kíli sighed and leaned his head back so he could meet her gaze.

« _Amrâlim_ _ê_ ,» he mouthed, as a tear rolled from his eye and down his temple, into his hair. Tauriel said nothing, only bent down and kissed his waiting lips. She felt a slight trembled roll through him as she did. Softly they kissed for a moment, and when it was ended Tauriel lowered her head and hugged her cheek to his. Kíli placed his arms around hers as they embraced and supported each other in their worry.

«I do not know what I would do without you, my love,» Kíli whispered into her ear and he touched her face as he kissed her cheek. Tauriel straightened, a tear rolling down her face, and she continued to massage his shoulders deeply.

« _Gi melin_ , Kíli! And I will always be here with you,» Tauriel spoke softly. She kissed the top of his head, and then leaned her cheek against it. Breathing in, she was calmed by the sweet scent of his hair, and she exhaled. She placed her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in the soft fur on his chest.

Kíli grabbed her arms and held them tight, as if they were the only things keeping him from drowning. More tears left his eyes as he leaned against her, calming himself by the warmth of her soft skin. After a moment of silence, he spoke again, his voice wavering: «Tauriel, I… I am afraid,» and his breath was shaking while he tried hard to keep control. It was as if it cost him everything to admit it, both to himself and to her.

Tauriel did not know how to respond. All she wanted was to support him, so she hugged him tightly, but stayed quiet.

«It is entirely dark around me, and I do not know how to keep moving.» Kíli raised his hand to his face and exhaled deeply.

At this Tauriel released her hold on him and moved so she stood in front of him. She sat down and laid her hands carefully on his knees. « _Melamin_ ,» she began, her voice full of support and love. «We have each other, and our daughter, and that is a light in this darkness,» she said low, taking his hand and kissing it.

Kíli looked at her for a long time, his eyes red with tears and despair, his lips pressed to a thin, wavering line. He then kissed her hand and held it to his wet cheek. «But I do not want him to die.» Kíli closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.

Tauriel caressed his good thigh with a tender touch, feeling her heart beat heavier of his words. She lowered her eyes to her hand, unable to meet his pained gaze. It was unimaginable that Thorin would die, but still it would happen. Then she raised her gaze and met his again, her smile sad, but full of thought.

«I know, but it is the way of the world. Not even the Gods can change that, Kíli,» Tauriel sighed and tilted her head softly in an attempt at easing his worries. But it had a different effect.

A shadow fell upon Kíli's eyes and he looked away, biting his teeth together as he inhaled sharply. With his free hand he wiped his tears away, as he let go of Tauriel and staggered to his feet so she had to move away from him.

«Kíli, what…?» she began uncertainly, but he spoke before she could finish.

«That is certainly easy for an _elf_ to say,» Kíli muttered hoarsely as he shook his head in astonishment and limped into their bedchamber, keeping his back to her the entire time.

Tauriel sat still on the floor, taken aback by his words. She would not hold it against him, for she knew how despaired he was, but it was the first time he had ever made a note of the difference of their races as long as they had known each other. It stung her chest, and she regretted her own words instantly. She should have stayed quiet. It was true; elves were not good with dealings of death, and so to fight with the nature of the world seemed unnecessary. It was as it was.

She sat on the floor for a moment, feeling the heavy weight of the situation on her chest, but she quickly returned to herself, and stood up. Calmly she walked over and stood in the open doorway to their bedroom. She watched Kíli as he struggled to undress himself, unable to balance on his bad leg.

«Kíli, forgive me,» before she had finished the sentence he turned to her and sent her a gaze like lightning, hard and chilling. Tauriel felt the sting of his anger, but she held his gaze with soft eyes. «I was only trying to help.»

«How can you possibly help me when you know nothing about death, about loss?» Kíli hissed, and inhaled sharply as he lost his balance and had to sit down on the bed. Tauriel quickly stepped over to him in an attempt to help, but he shook her hands off bitterly. «I do not need your help, I am not crippled yet.»

«You do not mean these things,» she said under her breath and laid her hand on his cheek, but he only looked at her with hard eyes.

«Do not tell me what I am feeling, Tauriel, you cannot understand. You don't even care for Thorin, you never have! Do you even love _me_?» Kíli sneered at her, his voice sharp as a blade as it filled the chamber. Tauriel didn't think, she only raised her hand and hit the side of his face so quickly Kíli did not understand what had happened before she stood there frozen of shock of her own actions, tears clouding her vision of his hurtful words.

There was a moment of deafening silence. The sound of his words filled the space between them. It was then that Kíli imploded. He began sobbing loudly, and cowered as he fell to the ground with no power to prevent it.

« _Gajut men,_ _Men gajamu,_ » he whispered over and over, and Tauriel fell to her knees beside him, taking his head on her lap and shushing him softly while she stroke his hair.

«It is you who must forgive me, Kíli, _Melamin_ ,» she whispered in his ear while she rocked him in her arms.

It was good for him to let it all out, and sobbing in the arms of his wife calmed Kíli down eventually. He embraced her and held her tight, feeling how secure and calm she made him. Simply being near her was like lying under water, feeling all worry and weight of the world fall away as his body was soothed. He could not believe his previous words to her, it had not been him. It had been the pain and the despair in his heart, and he hated himself for it.

«I love you, Tauriel, my wife! _Menu tessu_ _!»_ Kíli began kissing her, her shoulder, her neck, her cheek. When his lips found hers they let go for a moment and simply enjoyed the company of each other, as their lips and tongues danced sweetly together.

Tauriel placed her hands on his cheeks as their foreheads rested against each other, and she sighed. She then opened her eyes and looked at him with patient eyes, telling him silently that everything would be fine as long as they were together, and he believed her.

—

Kíliel sat on her knees with her ear to the door as she listened to her parents exchange. She felt the coldness of their words fill her body, the pain of her fathers sobbing hollowed her chest until she could feel nothing at all. At some point she had a strange feeling that she left her body and stood watching as her parents argued, and all she wanted was to yell at them to stop it.

She sobbed, but she did not know how long she had been sitting like that. Her body ached, her head pounded, and she just wished she could let go of the pain of the physical world.

Never had she thought about death like this, but in a single fraction of a second she envied Thorin. Soon his life would be over, and the trouble of their world would be ended as he would join Mahal in his halls. It sounded so sweet in this moment, such a relief.

As she returned to herself and realised her own thoughts she sobbed violently, for it was such a selfish thought. Right now her father needed her more than she needed him, and she had to be there for him in this hard time. That was the one thing she knew with certainty.

Kíliel exhaled a few times, calming down as the last tears left her eyes. She stood up on unsteady legs, and walked back to her bed. She dried her cheeks as she laid down and pulled the cover up to her eyes.

Only a moment later her door was opened, and she instantly closed her eyes. The light from the neighbouring room hit her face and lit up the inside of her eyelids in a soft pink, and yet she did not open them. She would not put anymore strain on her parents this night. It was better if they thought she had slept through it all.

Light footsteps over the floor indicated that it was her mother coming to check on her, and the soft brush of her hand against Kíliel's cheek and hair as Tauriel placed a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead.

Tauriel sighed softly before turning back and closing the door behind her. Kíliel opened her eyes and exhaled heavily, as a last tear left her eye.

Why was everything suddenly so hard?

—

Even after the many happenings of the day and night, Kíliel spent a long while staring into the dark. Her thoughts ran wild trying to comprehend everything that had, everything that was, and everything that would happen, while considering how she could make it easier for her father. She did not like any of this, least of all the thought that once again she would need to be more grown-up than she felt. She feared it was beyond her control, for every time she had tried to be more mature for her family, it had gone wrong, and she had disappointed everyone. This time she could not fail, for she had a burning fear that her father could not take much more in his grief.

Tears filled her eyes and she fought for them not to release, but that was also beyond her control. Kíliel sighed unevenly, and she sobbed once. Her body shook of exhaustion and her head throbbed. It was then that she thought she could hear a voice. It was a soft murmur and through her tear-distorted vision she saw a face fade into view. His eyes were blue as ice, though unlike Aín's, and kind, though unlike Thekk's. Golden hair framed his sharply cut face, his lips in a soft smirk, as his eyes held hers.

«Where are your strength, Kíliel?» his said, softly and yet sternly. Kíliel could not breathe, for she suddenly realised that it was Legolas. It was so dark in the room that for one moment she wondered if he was truly there. She did not care, for just seeing his face calmed her greatly. Legolas, whom she had not thought about in many years. Her life had grown busy with escalating schoolings and council business she needed to know more about, and somewhere along it all Legolas has slipped from her mind. Now he had returned to her just as she had needed him the most.

Looking into the memory of his eyes, Kíliel felt her heart beat heavy with forgotten strength. And suddenly she understood. It was the strength of the elves, their blood running in her veins. Her life had been all about her dwarven-half these years, for her sessions with her mother had grown fewer, and suddenly her lack of strength and restlessness made perfect sense to Kíliel. Yes, she was the princess of the Dwarves, but her elven half was just as important, and to live her life fully she needed to pay more respect to it. Starting tomorrow she would ask her mother for more sessions of elven language and knowledge.

Kíliel smiled, for it felt suddenly like a heavy weight was lifted off her chest, and that everything was a little bit easier. Looking into Legolas' shimmering eyes, she thanked him silently. She locked the warmness of his smile in her heart, to keep it beating until the day they would again see each other.

When she opened her eyes, warm, morning light met her, and she squinted unprepared as it hurt her eyes. It must have been a dream, one of those where she was not sure if it was real or not, but it must have been a dream. It felt so real though, and her heart beat heavily in her chest as if agreeing, saying that it also thought it had been true.

As Kíliel sat up in bed, her headache still there and her aching body screaming at her to lay still, she held tight to the feeling of strength that Legolas had brought her in her dream. No matter what, she needed to keep moving on, staying strong and stubborn for her family. It seemed, to her amusement, that tapping into her elven half had also given strength to her dwarveness. How ironical.

As she moved her feet over the edge of the bed and threw away the animal-skins, she noticed the bright, red stains on the skins of the mattress. And so she had finally bled, through the night that would prove to change the direction of her life forever.

—

Kíliel made small circles in the water as she tucked her knees under her chin.

After she had called for her mother, Tauriel had asked for a tub of bathing water to be brought to their chambers, instead of using the communal bathing houses. The elf thought this important enough for them to be alone, not even Náli, her dry nurse, was there as she usually was when Kíliel was bathing. The beginning of the Bleeding, or the ' _Anann_ _ned_ _agar_ ', was, by the custom of the elves, held in high regard, for it was the start of the second phase of a young elf's life. Each transition in an elven life was celebrated and brought on by water, after the love the Eldar bore for the sea. They would clean themselves of the life they had once lived and step onto their new path born anew, cleansed.

Therefore Tauriel had prepared the bath with herbs and soaps made for healing and restoration of energy, as a symbol of Kíliel's transition into the second phase of her life, as a young adult.

Kíliel sat silently, her fingers playing on the surface of the water while Tauriel combed her hair carefully. They were alone in the chamber, for Kíli was off talking to his brother or someone else considering their uncle's illness and the events of the previous night.

That morning he had struggled to get out of bed, and groaned heavily as he tried to stand on his bad leg. After a moment it had been easier, aided by the herb Tauriel had given him to chew. Tauriel knew it was only a temporary aid, and soon they would have to look for other means, walking aids most likely, but so far Kíli refused bluntly.

« I will walk on my own two feet while I can still stand,» he had stated frankly, yet not angrily. All his anger had seemingly disappeared since his outburst the night before. It scared Tauriel no less, but she could not argue with him. She knew all too well that he would soon have no choice in the matter, and giving him grief as long as he could still walk was of no effect. She had simply kissed him goodbye as he had limped stubbornly away.

When Kíliel then had called to her, showing her the blood, it had given Tauriel something else to think about, and it was a great cheer in all this tragedy, followed by instant dread. The notion that her daughter was too quickly growing from her, pained her immensely. But she had said nothing, only taken Kíliel in her arms as her child for the last time, for that she was no longer.

Now there was a silence between them, as Tauriel combed her daughter's hair. They were both occupied with heavy thoughts, thinking of the recent events and what was to come. It was all uncertain.

Kíliel thought also of her recent pains and decided it must have something to do with her bleeding. It was a strange thing, that women bled and felt pains of invisible injuries. It angered her, and she huffed as she folded her arms over her knees.

«What is it, _Iellig_?» Tauriel asked, her voice soft and curious, as only a mother's could be.

«Why do only women bleed, and why does it hurt so much?» Kíliel asked bluntly, hoping to get an answer without having to explain too much of her own condition.

Tauriel was a bit puzzled by the question, but answered as natural as she could: «Women bleed because it tells us we are fertile and healthy. But what pain are you talking about? Where does it hurt?»

Kíliel was at first reluctant to say, for no particular reason, then she cleared her throat and mumbled: «I've had these pressing pains in my belly and my chest, but I'm sure it's nothing.»

Had Kíliel looked at her mother in that moment she would've seen an expression of sheer horror on Tauriel's face, her fear for her daughter spinning wild thoughts in her head. But she calmed herself down after a moment, as she vaguely recalled her own first bleeding. It had been riddled with pain and confusion as she had few female elves to speak to, being in the care of Thranduil and Legolas.

Elves bled for a month, and it had gone a week before Thranduil had noticed the bloodstained clothes she had sent for wash, and had worried for her well being. He had then helped her when he had understood, and provided her with a proper maid to teach the young and terrified elf of her womanhood. It was one of the good memories she had of Thranduil, how he had embraced her as she had cried in desperation, and he had told her that it was nothing to be afraid of. His eyes had been so kind and understanding. Rarely had he that look in the later days of her life in Mirkwood.

A tear released from Tauriel's eyes as she let herself get lost in the memory of her once kind and loving father-figure. She had made herself strong as it became clear to her that Thranduil was changing with the darkening forest, and she made sure their relationship grew more professional as she came to fear him.

Suddenly all the changes weighed heavy on her, the injury of Kíli, the downfall of Thorin, and now the maturing of her daughter. It all happened too quickly, and she felt the pressure on her chest as the weight of an anvil. She felt weak, unable to handle any of it correctly.

Kíliel was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to wonder of her mother's silence. She thought about Legolas and his vivid eyes as she had seen them in her dream. And his soft lips… It was in truth a long time since she had thought about him properly, and with all the changes going on in her body, she couldn't help but wonder.

Would he be the same as the elf she had seen thirteen years ago? Was her memory of him even correct? She had been a much younger child, and she had grown quite a bit since then. Considering how she had reacted to her first impression of Thekk, and then how he had changed in her eyes in only a few years, she had evidence that her perception could be wrong. It was all very confusing.

Kíliel exhaled. Then she thought about Legolas again. If she was to meet him, she would have to learn how to speak proper Elvish. It was many years since last she had a session with Tauriel, and she raked her brain for any remaining words. She knew the generic words for love and family, for common activities like eating and working, but she knew little more than that.

Thinking of this made Kíliel suddenly aware that her mother had been quiet for a while, and she thought how to best get her mother's attention.

«Nana,» Kíliel said low, feeling the word, tasting it on her tongue. She had never before used the elven word for her mother, but now she thought it was a start at getting in touch with her elven half.

Tauriel's train of thought was abruptly interrupted, and she inhaled sharply, then continued combing her daughter's hair as if nothing had happened. «What did you say, Kíliel?» Her voice was soft, with only a hint of curiosity to it.

«I said 'Mother',» Kíliel said quickly. She did not know why, but she was embarrassed. She thought she could hear Tauriel sigh of disappointed. Kíliel could not see her mother's face as she sat with her back to her, but she wondered if Tauriel was sad she had not said it again in elvish. Then Kíliel reconsidered. She held her breath as she spoke: «No, I said 'nana'.» Kíliel shook her head lightly, as if annoyed with herself, but it was mostly for her mother's benefit. When Tauriel did not answer, she continued: «Because I wish to speak more Elvish.»

At this Tauriel let go of her hair and was quiet for a moment. She then took up another lock of her daughter's hair and started combing out the knots. «Why this sudden interest in Elvish? I thought you did not like it,» Tauriel's voice was suddenly more eager, and it made Kíliel happy with herself. It was a long time since they had had anything to do together, and she knew that Tauriel was sad for it. This was a good opportunity to get closer to her mother. With everything that was going on, Kíliel felt excited for it.

«I do not know it, that is why, and I realise it's just as important for me to learn about my elvish heritage, as it is about my dwarvish.» Kíliel turned around in the bath and looked at her mother. «I want you to teach me again,» and she paused as she looked down for a moment. Kíliel then laid her hand on her mothers as she continued: «It is important to me.» Looking at her mother she wished she had said what she thought: ' _you_ are important to me' _._

Tauriel leaned in and laid the other hand on her daughter's face. She smiled. Kíliel saw tears forming in her eyes, but they did not fall. Tauriel caressed her cheek and sighed. «You have truly grown, _Iellig_.» Tauriel laughed sweetly and stroke hair away from Kíliel's face, before she sighed and settled back in her chair, the leaning chair that Kíli so often used. «Of course I will teach you, but I hope you are prepared that it will be harder for you to learn now that you are older.» Her tone was excited now, and Kíliel turned back, a clever smile on her face.

« _Henion_ , _nana_ ,» Kíliel smirked as she continued to make small rings in the hot water. She hoped the days to come would be bright for her, and the hope grew once again in her chest that Legolas would return to her. And that when he did, she would be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Amrâlimê (My Love) - Khuzdul (not my favorite of the dwarven words of affection, but I know a lot of you fancy it so I thought to add it ^^ )
> 
> Gi melin(I love you) - Sindarin
> 
> (Forgive me)Gajut men, (I apolojize)Men gajamu - Khuzdul
> 
> Melamin(my love) - Sindarin
> 
> (You are everything)Menu tessu - Khuzdul
> 
> Anann (time) ned (of) agar (blood) - Sindarin
> 
> Iellig(daughter) - Sindarin
> 
> Henion (I understand), nana (mother) - Sindarin
> 
> -
> 
> I'm not gonna come with some stupid excuse for using 50 freakin days to publish this chapter.... I have been sick for most of Oktober and between drawing and school I have simply have neglected this chapter. I feel so bad, and I sometimes feel I just give up, but I would never do that to all of you who have followed me on this crazy journey! I owe it to you to keep at this, no matter how little I have time to spend on it, I am not ready to let Kíliel go, and you have my word that I will give this everything I have until it is finished!
> 
> I have gotten so many sweet and supportive comments telling me to use all the time I want and that they are patiently waiting, and you have NO idea how much it means to me! Seriously, you are the reason I write this crazy story! And I am better for it! :huggle:
> 
> So yeah, this is the 9th chapter, and it was so hard to write this, because it had to be a transition between everything that had happened, to show Kíli and Tauriel and Kíliel's reaction to it all, also finishing the beginning of Kíliel's maturing as well as introducing the elves a bit more... SO PHEW i am so glad with what I got going here and I cant WAIT to jump a bit in time and move on with Kíliel's personality! What do you want to know next about Kíliel's life? The elves will not appear in the next chapter, but I promise they are coming, to all you patient souls out there rooting for Legolas... I feel like I've totally let you down, but in my head Kíliel have A LONG way to go before she is ready to meet Legolas again, and it will be worth it, believe me! :D
> 
> -
> 
> Ideas, Oc's and fic (C) Me and salierifemme91 (deviantart)
> 
> Middle earth and all its other's inhabitants (C) Tolkien (and Tauriel is Jackson's, but who cares!)
> 
>  
> 
> Please don't use, write or alter in any ways my OC's without asking me first!


	10. The Truth

Kíliel opened her mouth in a big yawn. Even with a hand covering was it visible, and everyone around the council table turned to her. She didn't really care, the meeting had gone on long enough already. Her uncle had dragged her out of bed long before the call to breakfast, which she usually ignored. With all the growing she was doing she treasured sleep higher than food, and being rushed awake long before appropriate hours was downright cruel.

So she sat with her chin leaning on her folded arms on the table, her gaze lazy as she eyed the dwarves gathered around the table. Aín caught her gaze as he sat failing at concealing his amusement in her suffering. She glared, but it was not mean-hearted. The clean, dark-haired dwarfling had grown on her, and yet she found herself pondering his every good action. She did not yet trust him, even though he had been nothing but kind and respectful of her the last three years, since the night when Thorin had…

She could not think of it without feeling the fear grow in her heart.

Thorin was not doing any better, and with every passing moon she feared for his life and particularly for her father's well-being should anything happen to Thorin. Kíli was bouncing back and forth between well enough to dance around with her, and so bad he couldn't walk without a cane to lean on.

These things were ever pressing on her mind, and she would much rather be back in bed than sitting and listening to the boring, old dwarves listing some sort of trouble with restocking the hay for working horses in the Mountain.

«There have been some complain that the hay have turned sour due to leakage in the storage, and several horses got sick as a result,» Northar, the Trading Master, growled. Kíliel knew it was because they had talked about it before without it being investigated properly.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, thinking how easily it could be fixed if someone made the decision. But Fíli looked as if he couldn't care less about the words of the dwarf. His gaze was hollow and thoughtful. Undoubtably he was concerned about either Thorin or Kíli, or both. She often caught him looking like this, concerned and yet distant in his gaze. She furrowed her brows, and Aín must have seen it, directing the attention of Northar away from the prince.

«Have anyone investigated it properly? Grandfather?» Aín looked to the left where Altar sat, his sharp eyes locked on the book of records from earlier Council meetings. His nose wrinkled over his finely combed moustache. It dawned on Kíliel that this tidiness was the reason she did not like Altar, and perhaps why Aín unnerved her as well. They were the only dwarves she knew whom kept their appearances so clean-cut.

«It seems not,» Altar humphed, like it didn't surprised him the least, and he eyed Fíli sideways, waiting for his Prince to make a decision.

Fíli exhaled, his eyes still unfocused in the air, and he waved his hand. «Do something about it then,» his tone was patient as always, but Kíliel noticed the tired edge, and she had a feeling he simply wanted them all to leave, to be alone with his thoughts.

«Maybe the _little_ Princess have a suggestion, or are we boring you?» Kíliel halfway snarled at Northar's tone as he said 'little'.

During the last three years Kíliel had grown, and she was not little at all. She was close to full grown height in the eyes of dwarven men, whereas she soon towered over the women of the mountain. She was only forty-three and with her mother's estimations she wouldn't be fully grown for another twenty years. It was definitely another matter of suspicion for the Council members, and Kíliel was sick of their sharp remarks.

« _In_ _ú-draston_.» Kíliel muttered and lowered her forehead to the table. There was a moment of silence, and when she looked up she found the entire Council staring at her. Had she spoken aloud? And then she cursed herself, for it was not her intention to insult them all, even if she was bored and annoyed. Aín looked at her with a mixed expression, partly wonderment and another emotion she could not pin-point. Even Fíli looked at her now. His expression was hard, and it cut her the most. She had disrespected him more than any of the others, and she knew that as a burning sensation in her chest.

She cleared her throat, but found it dry and raw, and she feared any words she spoke would sound as if uttered by a crow.

For the last three years, Kíliel had been in frequent schooling with Tauriel, and it must have payed off for her to be using it without even thinking. It was a strange language compared to Khuzdul, and few dwarves understood it. That was the reason for the great insult; she had spoken as if she surpassed all of the dwarves sitting in this room, and foremost the future King of Erebor. She wished she would sink through the floor and disappear.

Balin was the first to speak. «Princess,» the white-bearded dwarf had a patient expression on his face, whereas the others expressed shock and outrage. «Is there anything you'd wish to say to the Council on the matter at hand?»

«And speak so we can all understand you,» Altar growled under his breath. When Fíli shot him a sharp look he pretended to be checking his notes.

«Kíliel?» Fíli looked to her then, his expression suspicious and puzzled.

At that moment she realised she was alone. Except for her mother, there were none of her family or friends that could ever understand her completely, for she was not like them.

Tears grew behind her eyelids, but she refused to let them show for these old, vicious crows who did not understand her.

«Surely you have an engineer who can look at the issue and be done with it. I do not see how this is worth the Council's time.» Kíliel straightened and leaned back in her chair, raising her eyebrows in the least amused expression she could manage. «If that is all, I will retreat to my chambers.»

Then she stood up, without even seeing the reaction of the Council, nor her uncle, and walked out of the chamber. As she passed the first column and was out of sight of the group, she let out a heavy breath of air.

Kíliel pressed her back towards the wall, breathing heavily, forcing her insides to stay together. Tears pressed hard against the back of her eyes, and a knot gathered in her throat. Her not-so-tiny body shook heavily, yet she would not succumb to the pressure of the tears. She would not. She was strong. And yet the last couple years weighed hard on her, with all the changes to her body, and the constant stress of worrying for Kíli and Thorin. She was stretched thin. And there was only one dwarf she wanted to see at that moment, whom could lessen the weight on her chest.

She exhaled one final time, squeezed her fists hard and raised her chin as she turned to walk away.

—

« _Sigin'adad_?» Kíliel knocked softly and peaked inside the halfway-opened door. The chamber was dimly lit, only with the light from the weak fire in the hearth. The fire-light outlined Thorin's long, silvery hair and fur-lined cloak as he sat in his leaning-chair facing it.

Kíliel stepped into the room. Opening the door caused a high squealing noise to erupt from the hinges, and Thorin started confused as if awakened from a shallow sleep.

«Huh… Who is it?» He growled under his breath, and halfway got up before Kíliel spoke again.

«It is only me, Grandfather,» she said as she jumped forward and put a hand on his shoulder to make him sit down again.

She had not wanted to disturb him, for she had not anticipated that he was sleeping. It was only mid-day. She was not used to how spent he was lately, and he was almost always slumbering in his chair by the fire. It was no surprise that he wasn't at the Council meeting this morning, but it still unnerved Kíliel, as if he had already given up his chair as King, waiting simply for death to take him.

«Oh, Kíliel, _men_ _nuthanuth_ ,» Thorin smiled warmly, the shade of sleep still in his eyes as he looked at her through squinted eyelids.

«I would not say that,» Kíliel smiled half-heartedly as she turned to the hearth to add another log to the fire. «There is nothing small about me anymore.» She blew on the flames and they grew slowly as they licked over the dry wood.

«You are still tiny in my eyes, little gem,» Thorin chuckled and laid his hands on her cheeks as she stood beside his chair, and she let go of the barrier inside of her. Tears flowed from Kíliel's eyes. She leaned over Thorin whom held her close in his arms and hummed calmly in her ear while she wept, sobbing violently for a long moment. His familiar, warm scent calmed her eventually and she breathed easier for the first time in a long while.

She always worried about him, and being with him was the only antidote from the stress. He was so calm and clear so all that frightened her ran away the moment she was in his presence.

«Now, young lady,» Thorin began, his voice dominant as he held her out from him and dried her cheeks with the fur-lining on his cape. «Do you want to explain why you came to your old Grandfather to cry? Or is that all I'm good for these days?» Thorin raised his eyebrow teasingly.

Kíliel giggled as she dried her face and grabbed the stool from beside the hearth so she could sit down on it facing Thorin. He always managed to rise her spirit whenever she felt down or stressed about something. Somehow everything seemed so much easier when she was with him.

Kíliel sighed and hugged herself as she thought how to describe it. «I was just angry,» she started, feeling the emotions wash through her of the scolding looks from the Council. «Fíli dragged me to yet another Council-meeting. I was so tired… and I just don't care what they do with the leakage in a storage chamber.» Kíliel sighed and rubbed her face. «I do not understand why I have to sit through such boring meetings. Why can't I take part in an important decision-making process for once? Isn't that what I would do as the Queen?» Kíliel groaned and rolled her head.

Thorin looked at her, his gaze studying her. «You have yet a long way to go before you are ready, Kíliel.»

It was like a slap to her cheek. Kíliel lowered her gaze and exhaled. All she ever wanted was to prove to him that she was worthy of being the future Queen of Erebor, and yet all she ever did was prove to him that she wasn't. She realised how childish she sounded.

«Forgive my whining, Grandfather. I am so stupid,» she mumbled as she stared at her hands, fighting for the tears to remain behind her eyelids.

«But it is a good thing you are not ready, Kíliel, you are still young. You have many years to become ready for the great tasks you have before you.» Thorin looked at her with a kind smile behind his thick beard. Kíliel sniffed once and met his gaze with confused eyebrows. «Did you know that at your age Fíli had a habit of tricking Kíli into any sort of trouble?»

Thorin's eyes gleamed as he looked at her, and for a moment he looked so young, like a dwarfling with hopes for the future. He had the same look Thekk sometimes had when he told her funny stories or dreamed about his future as a great warrior. She started, as she usually did when Thekk entered her mind so unexpectedly. She shook her head and looked at Thorin again.

«I did not,» Kíliel wondered, because the stories her father would ever tell of her uncle was of how great of a warrior he was or how kind he was as the prince-in-waiting. Kíliel couldn't imagine her uncle as anything but the kind, brave and patient dwarf she knew him as.

«I remember one time when he told Kíli that hens only lay their eggs if someone ran after them and yelled loudly. Your father, being ever faithful to his older brother, did as Fíli said because he was afraid all the eggs would get stuck in the hen if he didn't.» Thorin barked a laugh, as his eyes saw the sight of the two boys in the backyard of an inn somewhere on their many travels before him in the fire. Fíli stood gasping for air as he laughed hard at his younger brother who ran after all the birds in the courtyard as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Kíliel laughed as well. The thought of her uncle being somewhat like Thekk in his clever ideas and pranks was hard to imagine. She flinched and shook herself again. But the thought lifted her spirit. And then she sighed, for she remembered what else she had done that morning.

«I did something bad during the council meeting,» she added in a despondent tone, holding the fire with her gaze for the flush of red that came to her cheeks at the thought.

«And what would that be?» Thorin asked, his tone bordering on amused as he could hardly expect the worst. Being in care of Kíli and Fíli while they grew up, Thorin thought he had seen it all of mischievous children, and his granddaughter was far better than her father and uncle had ever been. He did not think it could be so bad.

«I accidentally spoke a phrase of elvish out loud in reply to one of the Council-men,» she bit her lip in anticipation of his response.

He surprised her fully with barking a quick laugh. «Lass, when Fíli met Altar for the first time on one of our travelings through Gondor, he simultaneously managed to set fire to his beard and cut off his ponytail. I have never seen a dwarfling more afraid than Fíli when Altar was finished cursing him up against the wall of the inn we were staying at. The rest of the visit he would tip-toe around Altar, terrified to step one toe out of line.» Thorin placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and looked at her with comforting eyes. «I do not think those old goats will remember your blunder for very long, but I can assure you that Altar have not forgiven Fíli for his accident yet. And he never will.»

«Well, if you say so. Though they all looked very shocked.» She sighed and continued: «I just don't want to disappoint you,» Kíliel pursed her lips and gazed at Thorin with uncertain eyes.

«You needn't worry, gem. You will make many mistakes yet, but if you only remember to learn something from every one of them it won't have been for naught. I know that you will make a great Queen one day. It is not me you must convince, but yourself.» Thorin blinked an eye at her.

Kíliel smiled and exhaled heavily, as if letting go of all the worry that was laid as a knot in her stomach. And yet she was in doubt. «I don't know if I'll ever truly be ready,» she said then, «but I'll never stop trying.»

Thorin chuckled warmly and ruffled her hair with his hand. «You're a Durin. As long as you never give up, you will always be a Durin, and the throne of Erebor will rightfully be yours, no matter what they say.» He leaned towards her and kissed her forehead before he relaxed back into his chair again.

Silence grew between them for a moment as they relaxed in each other's company, and the crackling of the fire was the only sound they could hear.

Thorin opened and closed his hands softly. He felt the stiffness in them, and suddenly he thought of the harp that stood in the corner behind them. How often he missed the feel of its strings. It had not been played in many years now. Looking at Kíliel he wondered, for she had never played it, as it had been too big for her. Maybe now was the time, for she had indeed grown the last few years. She was taller and leaner than before, with longer arms and legs than most dwarves her age.

«How long has it been since you last played the harp, Kíliel?» Thorin asked then, because he could not himself remember.

Kíliel thought back. She realised it had been many years since last time, and it shocked her. «I think last time must've been at least two years ago,» she pondered, and creased her eyebrows.

«Could you play some for me now, please?» His voice was so soundless it unnerved her, and she couldn't but arise. As she turned to the chest to find her small harp Thorin shook his head softly, and she stopped curious, wondering what he was meaning to say. He exhaled and spoke softy: «I want you to play the big harp today.»

«Are you sure, grandfather? But that is yours,» she muttered, and meeting his eyes she saw something shift. That moment he seemed far away, and she was afraid he would lose himself again. He did not. He simply smiled and met her gaze.

«It does not belong to me alone. My grandfather carved it, and it belongs to every Durin whom rules this mountain. Some day it will be yours to watch over, so you have better start learning how to use it. Don't you think?» He winked at her.

She stood confused a moment, but then her lips broke in a wide smile as she truly comprehended the grandness of this moment. For the first time Thorin thought she was worthy to play his big harp, and it filled her body with a happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. Her fingers itched to feel the strings of the heavy instrument.

Kíliel then turned to the harp and carried it carefully across the floor to stand in front of her as she sat down on the stool again. It was heavy, carved from a dark wood she could not specify. The carvings and decorations were rich with painted gold along the ridge, and her fingers explored them with respectful acknowledgement. As she let her fingers play along the strings she suddenly felt the loss she had of the instrument and how badly she had missed the feel of a harp between her fingers, though this one was grander than the one she had used to play. At the mere touch of the strings, it sang to them. The sound was deep and vibrant. It sent chills down her back, and she smiled blissfully as she continued to stroke the strings, feeling every shimmering note move through her.

«How does it feel?» Thorin smiled as he observed her face, eyes closed and concentrating on the feel of the new instrument, her fingers dancing over the strings as she experimented.

Every hair on her body rose in a revel of excitement of the unexplored possibilities of this new opportunity. It was a comfort and a relaxation in it she had not anticipated. It was like the whole world ceased to exist, and only she and Thorin remained, with no troubles haunting them. What she would've sacrificed to stay like that forever. And then again Thekk entered her mind and her fingers snapped away from the strings.

It always caught her by surprise, the thoughts of Thekk that would frequently appear in any given situation. She could not explain it, and it angered her gradually more and more as it occurred.

Thorin still gazed at her, patiently awaiting her response. Kíliel shook her head to rid herself of her inexplicable thoughts, and a warm and calm smile grew on her face as she met Thorin's eyes.

«It is… magical,» she sighed and stroke another string. Her eyes caressed it as her fingers played again. «It is better than I ever imagined.»

«And yet your thoughts are far away,» he gazed at her and stroke her cheek as a deep red coloured them. Kíliel looked away, into the fire, for she could not bring herself to speak of it.

«It is nothing,» she sighed and let her fingers wash over the strings and a sound like a waterfall of diamonds filled the chamber for a second.

«Either your words or your face is lying, for they clearly do not agree,» Thorin pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in patient anticipation. Kíliel quickly met his gaze, her lips pressed together, biting the inside of her chin. Thorin furrowed his brows. «Do you not think I will understand?» He sounded insulted, and Kíliel groaned. She covered her face with her hands and spoke quickly.

«Whatever I do I cannot get Thekk out of my thoughts, and I do not understand what it means.» After a moment she parted her fingers to see her grandfather's reaction. He was the one watching the flames now with his lips pressed together.

After a moment of gnawing anticipation he looked at her. She saw now a deep regret in his eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen in them before. Thorin exhaled as he turned back to the fire and spoke gravely: «I know I let you down inviting them here, Kíliel, and had it been any other way I would have made sure you wouldn't have to live in constant fear of your position. In the long span of my life that is what I regret the most.»

Thorin raised a hand to his brow and breathed heavy. Kíliel blinked, for she would never get used to his sudden drops in spirit or speeches spoken as though he had already given up his life, ready to die any minute.

«Grandfather,» Kíliel sighed, taking his hand between hers and squeezing it lightly. «I know that it was nothing you could do. You already saved me and mother by fighting the council for us, allowing us to stay here, safe. I know this. And I know that Thekk was part of that agreement. It was nothing you could do.» She swallowed and lowered her eyes for a moment as she thought of it.

Thorin's brows were deeply furrowed as he gazed at her again. «That isn't true, and I think you know that already. You are our future Queen, Kíliel, and no one can tell you otherwise. You have the blood of Durin in your veins, mixed with elven blood or not. There is no disputing that fact.»

«So does Thekk,» Kíliel met his gaze with a frustrated frown. Why would he say these things? She knew the truth, and it was not as he said. «I am fine with it. I have forced myself to be, because that's what you told me, what my parents told me I had to do.»

«It is not true, Kíliel.» When he met her eyes now, his gaze was so filled with guilt it pained her to look at him. «Yes, the council, and probably every dwarf in this mountain want you to marry Thekk. It is safe, for them, for the future of Erebor and for you. But you still have a choice in all of this.»

«Yes, I can abdicate. Give the throne to Thekk and leave my home. Is that what you want me to do?» She looked at him, worry and anxiety riding her heart like a wild boar, and she could hardly breathe. What was he meaning with all of this?

«Kíliel!» His voice suddenly boomed throughout the chamber and it hit her like a tidal-wave. She blinked, then realised how disrespectful she had been interrupting him in such a way.

«Forgive me, Grandfather. Please finish talking and I will be quiet until you are done,» meeting his strong eyes, she felt her inside settle. Lately she had grown a fire inside her, and it was sometimes harder to keep it locked down. She blamed it on her continued growing, that it was an effect of her changing body and mind. At least she hoped so.

«There's no doubt you are a Durin, lass,» Thorin smiled with raised eyebrows and pinched her nose. He then turned serious again. «But as I said, it is not the only way. No matter how much they urge you to marry him, no matter their curses or threats, there is nothing they can do to force you into a marriage. It is not allowed by our laws. The choice must be yours, and they can not take the crown away from you if you choose not to.»

When Thorin stopped talking, Kíliel kept silent. The fire in her chest was dead, and in her head confusion roamed, because what did it mean? What did it mean for her? It meant that she had no reason to resent Thekk. It meant that they had all lied to her, again, but it did not make her angry like before.

It was a whole new perspective. And suddenly everything she had ever worried about seemed to let go of her. And the one thought that was absolutely clear was that she did not need to marry Thekk. The sadness that suddenly welled up in her confused her more than any other thought she had ever had about him before in her life had.

Tears filled her eyes, and she cursed them.

She did not say anything, and looking at Thorin she saw his guilt consume him for the thoughts he must think she had. «I understand your anger and confusion, but you must know that your parents had nothing to do with it. The council made me promise that you would be open to the idea, and this was the only way to make it happen. To make you think it was final that you were to be married, and with your stubbornness, they wanted a bond to be created between you and Thekk. And I am so sorry, Kíliel, my gem, that I did this to you.»

She still did not speak, she simply leaned over him and hugged him tightly to her. She buried her face in the fur on his collar, inhaling his deep scent, and wished that moment would never end. There was nothing to be said, and for once everything seemed right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> In ú-draston (I don't care) - Sindarin
> 
> Sigin'adad (Grandfather) - Khuzdul
> 
> men (my) nuthanuth(tiny girl/daughter) - Khuzdul
> 
> -
> 
> I feel like I should appologize, though I know with myself I needed this time to write this chapter. Its been a hard couple months and so my mind was completely shut off creatively, and I didnt write a word all January. So I hope you can forgive me, and enjoy this chapter, as it is abit lighter than the pervious ones.
> 
> I've got a few comment saying how depressing my work is, and if you truly think so and dont enjoy it you should stop reading right now, becasue believe me this story is not getting any more cheerful anytime soon. The reason for this is that I do not think growing up the princess and being half is a good setting for a happy life, and I always love to challenge my characters physically and psychologically because I knwo that its my hard history that made me grow into the girl I am today. And honestly who wants to read about their favorite characters being happy all day? =P We're into fanfics because it breakes our heart, with a few blimpses of happiness inbetween.
> 
> SO I truly hope most of you enjoy what I do, and will continue to follow Kíliel, no matter how slow I am of a writer! However I truly appreciate all the support and patient comments telling me to use my time writing, nothing warms a fanfic-writer's heart like that!!
> 
> -
> 
> Ideas, Oc's and fic (C) Me and camelia1845 (Deviantart) 
> 
> Middle earth and all its other's inhabitants (C) Tolkien (and Tauriel is Jackson's, but who cares!)
> 
> Please don't use, write or alter in any ways my OC's without asking me first!


	11. Pain and Praise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kíliel is experienceing the uncomfortable pains of growing up, while Thekk is trying to be a friend and take her on a little adventure. And Aín show us some of his most inner thoughts...

After that day Kíliel made a habit of visiting her grandfather almost every afternoon between her lessons. She would not say it out loud, but she could not know for certain how long he had left and every moment spent with him was a blessing.

They would talk and laugh while she played the harp. It took her some time to get used to the bigger format, but after a few sessions she could play almost as smoothly as on the little one. Thorin said it was all in her hands, and as long as she didn't try to think about it too much, her hands would know what to do.

Beside the increasing of her lessons with Tauriel, slow days with the Council and the hours in classrooms with the other children, these were the happiest days of her life.

After Thorin had revealed the truth to her she had spent a few months considering it and what it meant for her life and future. Of this she spent a particular amount of time thinking of Thekk, reconsidering every thought she had ever had of him. Sometimes it angered her that they had kept it a secret from her, for how might her life have been different if they had not. Would she have bothered with Thekk? Would she have gotten to know him at all? It sometimes felt like she was awoken from a dream where everyone had controlled her and suddenly she could move her arms and legs without everyone else pulling the strings, and it scared her.

But she was never angry for long, and over time she came to forgive all her family, leaving all the blame on the Council and all its interference in her life. She vowed to never let anyone steer her life again other than herself, unless she allowed anyone to do so. And silently she dreamed of creating a new Council with dwarves she trusted. But she saved that last idea for the future, when she was Queen and in charge.

Right now she was just a young princess of 44 years, a princess maturing and growing from one moon to the next, and thus a princess in great pain.

Kíliel groaned as she lay half-naked on her belly on the cold, stone floor with her hands pressing on her lower abdomen. Nalí, her dry-nurse, trotted around her, flabbergasted as to what to do about the young princess.

«May Mahal cease his hammering. I do not know what I've done to deserve such torment!» Kíliel cried exaggeratedly with her forehead pressed to the floor. The cold of the stone was soothing and seemed the only thing to help her through the pain.

«Oh, it cannot be so bad. Get up so that I can take a look at you,» Nalí spoke calmly, her hands on her hips as she stood over the whimpering girl.

Kíliel turned her head and sent the nurse a look of scorching fire. «No! You do not know what it's like…,» she stubbornly rolled over on her back and hissed, her hands grasping her stomach. «It feels like an anvil is pressing on me, with someone beating a great hammer on top!» She made a grimace and whimpered again.

«Do you feel pain anywhere else?» Nalí said patiently, waiting for Kíliel to give up her tantrum and communicate properly as to give her an idea how to treat it.

Kíliel calmed down, tried to breathe deeply while she worked through the pain. As some of the intense pressure eased she could feel through her body.

«My head aches… and my breasts are very sore too,» Kíliel muttered and then groaned. She knew what it meant. Nalí said it before she could.

«Then you will bleed soon, I shall think,» the dry-nurse had a look of compassion as she studied Kíliel where she lay. «I will make you a cup of Chasteberry-tea, and then I'm sure you'll feel better right away, lass.»

«Can you not bring me cake instead?» Kíliel whined, and sobbed again as a new wave of pain ripped through her.

«You cannot have cake for breakfast, Kíliel. You are not sick!» Nalí spoke strictly, sending the girl a scolding look, and left the chamber with swift steps.

«If this is well, then I would rather be sick,» Kíliel muttered bitterly when the dry-nurse had left the chamber. She rolled back onto her side and curled into a ball. The waves of aching cramps made her want to scream as loud as she could, to rip and claw at her insides, but all she could was lie completely still. She would rather face a hundred orcs naked and without weapons, than endure this torment.

Ever so often would she go through this pain. It was appearing inconsistently, with a few moons' time. Tauriel was convinced it would even out and appear more rarely as she grew into her mature state. Nalí thought it was just the way because of her mixed heritage, that the pains would perhaps cease with childbirth. Kíliel would only groan at their speculations.

As she had heard from both her grandmother and her mother, this was what labour felt like, and she vowed to never bear children. What women in their right mind would choose this torment, choose to inflict such searing pain upon their bodies? She could not fathom it.

When she thought of the suffering and sacrifice of women she was always angered, for it was not fair. Even as women in Erebor were not bound to a service of men in marriage, if that did not fit them, it still angered her that it was expected of her. Even as princess it was as if she did not have the same rights as any other woman of Erebor, and the men all tried to control her. She would not let them. If it was the last she did, she would not be controlled by men and their fear of her power.

Kíliel staggered to her feet with a groan. Now her head was boiling with anger and the pain was all but drowned out from the ferocious thoughts. She was naked but for the night-tunic she wore, and she quickly dressed, her movements rough, as she simply needed to get out of there. She could not take the scrutinising looks of Nalí or the concern of her mother any more. She needed a distraction from her real life and the pain.

As she stamped out of the chamber, Tauriel passed her in the door.

«Kíliel, I did not see you for breakfast, I… Where are you going?» Her mother grabbed her collar, and Kíliel groaned annoyed. She brushed her mother's hand off of her and snorted.

«That's where I'm going now,» Kíliel rolled her eyes and walked away.

«Come straight home after, remember you have lessons today,» Tauriel called after her daughter with a perplexed expression on her face. She had noticed the change in Kíliel, especially in her attitude and temper. She sighed it off as a side-effect of all the changes in her body, and went on to ready the chamber for her daughter's schooling later that afternoon.

—

Kíliel stomped through the Mountain, with the ripples of pain consistently torturing her lower abdomen. It was a wonderful day outside, and throughout the corridors beams of sunlight shone bright and filled the halls with warm, yellow light. Kíliel felt only her frustration, as the light hurt her eyes, and she wished the weather would more closely resemble her feelings of utter despair and hopelessness. She could not bear any pleasantries before she had gotten something to eat.

Of those reasons she avoided the most crowded places this morning, staying away from the Market- and Dining-hall as she sneaked down towards the kitchens. The only food she was hungering for was the sweet kind, and she would go and see if the cooks had any spare-cake for her.

—

«Don't tell anyone you got it from me, 'ay lass?» Ganin, one of the cooks' apprentices, whispered to her as he handed her a pouch with smuggled honey-bread and fruit-cake. Kíliel gave her sweetest smile and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, before she turned around and ran quickly over the little hall behind the kitchen. She hid in safety behind a few big barrels beside the storage across the hall.

Though she was hardly as small as she used to be a few years earlier, she still loved to find places to hide away from the world when she felt overwhelmed or frustrated. A few moments of solitude did her wonders, which was ever hard to get in her chambers, where her family trotted in and out all day.

«Is it true the future Queen of Erebor hides behind barrels to eat cake when everyone else are eating porridge for breakfast? Indeed, her rule will be one of terror!» Thekk shook his head in acted disbelief. Kíliel jumped and inhaled a piece of the honey-bread she ate, because she had not heard him coming. She coughed heavily and it took Thekk only a moment to realise his mistake. Awkwardly he hit her back while she coughed the crumb from her lunge.

«And she will surely have you executed after the attack on her life,» Kíliel spoke wheezingly under her breath, trying to breathe normally after having coughed so hard. She looked at him with exasperation, pursing her lips and raising her eyebrow at him.

«Yeah,» Thekk rubbed his head in regret as he slid down beside her. «Sorry about that. Maybe you should let me eat the rest, just in case it happens again,» Thekk grinned widely now, and leaning closer to her he bit in the air close to the hand she held the cake with. «It could be poison, 'ya know?»

«Have it then,» Kíliel said and rolled her eyes at his actual drooling over the cake. It seemed as though he had not eaten in months, and she knew that was not true as she had caught a glimpse of him just the day before stuffing his face with cooked pork at dinner. Now he took the cake and ate the whole thing in one piece, his mouth full with a silly smile of bliss on his face. She chuckled of his ridiculousness.

«Wha'cha up to then, Kíliel?» Thekk mumbled, his mouth still full of cake. His eyes were big and brown as he looked at her with the gaze she could not resist.

Kíliel groaned and leaned back against the barrels. She would say nothing about her condition, yet she always liked talking to him. «I am just frustrated with my family. My mother is really pushing me with my schooling and I am growing tired of it. It's not like I will ever have any use of knowing Sindarin,» She put up a huffy expression and eyed him sideways. «When I decided to learn more Sindarin I did not think it would be so boring... Besides, I have never left this bloody mountain; what use is a queen who knows nothing of the world?»

«Alright then,» Thekk suddenly jumped to his feet and dragged her up as well. «I know what you need.»

«What?!» Kíliel exclaimed, seeing his mischievous eyes gleam in anticipation, and she knew it could mean nothing good.

Thekk looked at her for a moment, his smile crooked, as he leaned in and whispered in her ear: «We are going on an adventure!» And then he dragged her after him out into the hall and up through the mountain.

—

«Thekk, what are you doing?!» Kíliel hissed while hiding behind a cart as as the boy sneaked over the open hall in front of the chamber of the Guards, to where a few ponies were fastened to a pole. Kíliel looked around the cart to see two guards talking on the other side of the hall with their backs to them, expecting them to turn around and catch them at any moment. The princess looked back to Thekk with frustrated eyes at his recklessness. He simply grinned at her, as if he had no worry in the world and that what he was doing was not breaking any laws at all.

Thekk reached the horses and placed a soft hand over one's nose to keep it quiet, then untied it and silently walked it back to where Kíliel was hiding. As they sneaked around the corner and entered the grand Entry hall they simply walked as if it was no strange thing to see the future King and Queen follow a pony out of the Mountain. No one stopped them as they crossed the columns and bridge that lead out into the open air.

At the edge of the bridge Kíliel stopped. She had truly never left the Kingdom before, and suddenly she felt a knot in her stomach tighten, and she turned back for a second, watching the statue of Thorin that had been erected at the top of the grand archway shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies was won. She had a strange feeling in her chest, like it was wrong of her to leave the mountain on this day. It was not the pain of her bleeding, it was something else, and it felt like a hand held her in place for a brief moment, forbidding her to go on.

When he noticed she wasn't following, Thekk halted the pony and turned to Kíliel. His expression was wondering as he spoke: «What's the matter? Aren't cha' comin', Kíliel?»

Looking at the statue a single moment more, she then turned to Thekk, shrugging and laughing. «Of course I am, you won't get rid of me so easily!»

She spoke like nothing in the world was wrong, and yet it took her every last bit of strength to take that last step off of the bridge, towards Thekk, and away from Erebor.

«Where are we going, anyway?» she eyed him suspiciously. He grinned widely, which only added to her suspicion. It was the same smile her father had whenever he had a secret he knew she would like, but her mother would not.

«You said you had never left the Mountain, so I decided the least I can do is help you.» Thekk still grinned, and as he jumped into the saddle and helped her up behind him, and he shrugged. «And technically Dale is still _in_ the mountain so...»

Kíliel's eyes grew big in surprise and she squealed in excitement before she tightly hugged her arms around Thekk's waist and he urged the pony into a quick gallop down the hillside towards the towers of Dale they could see rising across the plain.

—

When they dismounted, they found themselves in the midst of a busy street in Dale, and Kíliel was speechless. The first thing that baffled her was the humans. They were so much taller than any dwarf she had ever seen, though about the same height as her mother, it was a different thing to stand amongst so many, and for once feel small in a crowd. It was many years since last she had done that, and it brought Kíliel immense joy and excitement. The humans were a wonderful people, so beardless, even the men, and they all came in different shapes and sizes. Thin and thick, big and small, and the children were all skinny and almost as tall as her.

And all the things she wanted to explore! There were some kind of market, with booths and stalls much like the Market hall in Erebor and yet not alike at all. They sold such colourful things, dresses and tunics beautifully designed. In Erebor it was custom to buy the fabrics and sew your own clothes, while here you could buy them finished and in so many beautiful variations and styles. Jewellery and footwear was also on display. It was a wonderful sight, and to be able to see all the merchandise before you decided what to buy brought her feelings unlike any, like watching a feast be brought out before her eyes.

It was late September, and the wind was brisk, but kites played in it for the amusement of the crowd and of the children operating them. It looked like a hard game, and Kíliel dearly wished to try one. And the sun shined, so bright she could barely see without covering her eyes with her hand. It was a sensation unlike any, and the fresh, mountain air was intoxicating, her lungs used to the humid and heavy air of the underground city.

She turned to Thekk and saw his amused expression as he followed after her, his breath heavy as he tried to keep up, and she realised she'd been running back and forth through the market, eyeing everything there was to see. She smiled apologetically.

«I must've forgotten myself,» she said and turned again to watch the kites soar through the sky above them.

«It is a beautiful sight,» Thekk chuckled, and while she watched them he watched her. She met his gaze and furrowed her brows in wonder, but she decided to think nothing of it. There were a thousand things she wanted to see at that moment, so she turned away.

«It's so big and open,» Kíliel marvelled and breathed heavily, «It's so bizarre.»

«Put on your hood, that way we look like normal dwarves,» Thekk suddenly said and raised her hood over her head, leaving her face in the shade. She saw a band of dwarven merchants across the market-place and agreed with his thinking. Truthfully Kíliel did not know what would happen if anyone recognised her, if they would be angry or not, but better not risk it.

When she turned back to Thekk he grinned, and she was secretly relieved that he had returned to himself again, the mischievous boy she called her friend, and not the thoughtful dwarf she barely knew with eyes which spoke a thousand words she could not understand. It confused her too much to even wonder on, so she always simply ignored him when he became like that.

She turned and walked over to another stall where she saw a selection of beautifully carven dolls. They had hair which looked as soft as if it was real and dresses so rich in colour and detail, almost like a small girl had been shrunk down to the size of the dolls by some magic. Never had she ever seen such dolls, for any doll she had ever gotten was made by her father, which she of course held dear, but were of much rougher material than these.

Beside the stall was a woman, tall and beautiful, with long, brown hair and blue eyes. As Kíliel stepped closer, the woman caught her eye and looked for a moment wondering upon her.

«Well, hello there,» the woman smiled courteously as she straightened and gestured towards her dolls. «Can I be of service to you, good folk? My dolls are made of the best material worthy of the honourable dwarves of Erebor or any region. Perhaps a gift?»

As the human looked at them, her expression slowly changed. She smiled curiously and leaned forwards as she looked Kíliel up and down for a moment.

«Now, you are a bit younger than my usual clientele, are you not? And… I have never seen a dwarven girl before…» The woman held Kíliel's eyes intently for a moment as her voice trailed off. «You are a beautiful child, are you not? My dolls seem to wither in your presence, my lady.» The woman straightened and caressed her cheek softly.

Kíliel turned around to see if she was truly speaking to her, her eyes big in surprise. No one had ever had that reaction upon seeing her. Thekk had as curious an expression as she did, though his eyes spoke of distrust and suspicion. As she turned back to the woman her expression must've been a perplexed one, for the human laughed softly.

«I mean no offence, my lady, but whenever I see a beautiful face I must take note, and you have truly that. Though indeed you are the first dwarrow-dame I have ever seen, one does not often see those out and about, so how am I to judge?»

The woman talked as if she had no reservations, and it was indeed refreshing for Kíliel, who felt that every person speaking to her had some kind of agenda with rehearsed politeness as a cover. She realised that this woman was the first she ever met who had no idea who she was. She cocked her head as she considered the implications.

Though it seemed Thekk was not so fond of this woman's openness, as he stepped slightly in front of her, as if to shield her from the human's judging vision. But Kíliel did not care, she was only baffled and pushed Thekk stubbornly out of the way as she took another step towards the woman.

«You find me beautiful?» Kíliel suddenly croaked, her voice hoarse and she had never felt further from beautiful in her life.

The woman seemed taken slightly aback by the question, as if the statement hadn't been straight-forward enough. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned down so she was face to face with Kíliel as she spoke. «You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen, you must know that! Had it not been for your height I would have thought you were of the elven-kin. How curious,» the woman spoke the last as if to herself, and never had the words rung any more true or with more importance to Kíliel as in that moment.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she fought hard for them not to fall. She lowered her head for a moment as she basked in the moment of utter approval and joy this strange woman gave her.

«Kíliel, we should go,» Thekk quickly said, protectively placing a hand on her shoulder and eyeing the woman suspiciously.

«Forgive me, my lady, I speak too freely, my father always said… Kíliel?» The woman suddenly perked up, looking at the young dwarves with newfound curiosity. «Kíliel? The dwarven Princess? It cannot be…,»

Kíliel immediately lowered her head further and turned away. She realised her mistake in seeking contact with this woman, now everyone would know of the dwarven princess that sneaked about in human cities.

As they turned to leave Kíliel paused, plucked a golden coin from her pocket and turned to place it in the woman's hand. «I thank you for your service, madame. Good day!»

She did not wait to see the woman's reaction, simply turned and followed Thekk through the marketplace, her heart beating rapidly and her breath heavy as she played the previous scene over and over in her head.

When they stopped beside a shoe-maker's stand a few turns away and out of sight of the doll-maker, Thekk turned to Kíliel with a hard expression. «You should not have let her notice you. Now everyone will hear that you ran away from Erebor, and we will get in trouble.»

Kíliel saw suddenly red with fury and snapped back at him: «I was not the one who revealed my identity, Thekk. _Lulkhel!_ Do not blame me for it when it is you who must think more before you speak!» She hissed furiously.

Suddenly she felt again the pain in her abdomen grow and wash over her like a wave of slashing knives. Kíliel groaned but refused to show Thekk her pain, not in this moment when she needed to seem strong. She would not let him make it her mistake alone, though she probably shouldn't have talked with the woman, she could not regret it. It had brought her more reason to be happy with herself than anything else in her life.

«Why did you want me away from her, anyway? She would not have known me if you had not spoken my name,» Kíliel eyed him accusingly.

«I'm responsible for ya', Kíliel, I need to make sure you're safe. Ye can'it trust humans,» Thekk pursed his lips, his expression repentant and yet stubborn, as he too stood by his actions and reason for anger. When he got impatient or angry his accept always deepened and it annoyed her even further.

«You are not responsible for me, Thekk,» Kíliel sneered at him, her eyes filling with tears again, partly for her anger and partly for her pain.

«Of course I am,» Thekk had a look of complete confident, as if it was the one thing he knew to be true in this world, «Besides, had I not brought ye' here none of this would've happened.»

«I chose to come with you,» Kíliel groaned in utter frustration. Then her eyes turned hard and she looked him dead in the eyes as she spoke through gritted teeth: «If you think I am your responsibility, you are mistaken. I am not yours, not now and not ever. I am no ones but my own, and I can take care of myself. If you cannot understand that…,»

«I understand, Kíliel,» Thekk had bewildered eyes as he placed a hand on her arm as if to calm her down. «I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that!»

Kíliel shook off his hand and pressed her lips to a tight line as she looked down. «You are just like everyone else,» she muttered and turned away from him.

«No!» He demanded, and she froze, her back towards him. «I am not like them… I do not want to own ye', Kíliel, and I never have. I simply want to be yer' friend, if only you can trust me.»

She turned back suddenly, blinking as she looked at him again. He was so sad, his entire stance downbeat, a look of misery on his face. Something inside her screamed for her to comfort him, to tell him that he was indeed her only friend and that she trusted him more than she was comfortable with. But her burning abdomen, sore breasts and throbbing head would not allow her, and she looked at him with contempt.

«You know, Grandfather told me about everything. He said that it was all a lie, that I did not have to marry you, that it was all a scheme for us to get to know each other.» She pursed her lips as she paused, then swallowed. She ignored the audience they had with all the people passing them as they stood in the middle of the busy street. «Did you know?»

Thekk bit his lip and looked down as he caressed his braids, a nervous habit of his. Kíliel understood and she nodded bitterly. «How long? From the start? Have you been lying to me all this time like all the others?»

«No, no…» Thekk stuttered, and meeting her gaze again she saw such tormented regret, such as she had never seen in his eyes before.

«I wanted to tell you when my father told me a year ago, but he made me promise not to. Oh, Kíliel, I was so angry, with all of them for doing this to us, but mostly for your sake. It was such a dirty scheme, and I felt guilty for being a part of it. You must believe me,» he took another step towards her, holding out his hand in a hopeful gesture, seeking her forgiveness.

Kíliel took a step backwards. She did not know what to think.

«I never wanted any of this,» Thekk suddenly continued, and Kíliel met his eyes quickly, seeing his determined gaze. «I never wanted to marry you, not if it meant robbing you of your throne. The prospect of becoming a King is good and all, but it's nothing I've ever coveted. Even when I thought I was going to be King, I was unhappy with the idea, and I wanted simply to leave Erebor, become a mercenary or dig somewhere in the Iron Hills.»

Kíliel furrowed her brows, and yet their gazes were locked.

«I have always simply wanted to be someone you can trust, with no hope of marriage or love. You must believe me… _Please_ , believe me,» as she stared at him, her mouth falling slightly open and her heart willing to accept his apology, to believe that he spoke the truth, a single tear released from Thekk's eye.

Kíliel felt her own eyes water, and she stepped forward so that she could put her arms around him, bury her face in the fur on his collar and feel his strong arms support her like nothing else could. And it felt good! She exhaled, then inhaled and felt the warm smell of his hair fill her. She felt his entire body shake before it relaxed, and his arms tightened even more around her until she was certain nothing could hurt her ever again as long as she had him by her side.

It was then that a loud horn sounded from Erebor. It shook the ground, resonated in the air, and they looked to the mountain in surprise, releasing from their embrace. What was going on?

A yards away from them a band of dwarven guards suddenly stood tall, calling aloud for everyone to hear. «The King under the Mountain is dead! Long live King Fíli, King under the Mountain!»

There was a silence as heavy as a ton of bricks lowered upon the market. The whole town of Dale seemed to be frozen in that one moment.

Kíliel did not understand. It was a mistake. If the King was dead, that meant that Thorin… Her thoughts went suddenly blank, her vision blurred and she collapsed on the cobblestones, miles away from her home.

—

Aín sat with his grandfather in the Council chamber. They were going over the revised budget for the new year. It was tedious work, and Aín's thoughts were occupied elsewhere, with a young princess with red, flaming hair and a difficult mind to understand.

Ever since he had found her in that storage four years ago she had started to trust him more, and still her mind eluded him. He was angry with himself for his juvenile behaviour the first years of their acquaintance, and he feared he would not be able to have full control of her in the future because of it.

And then there was that maggot Thekk, always ready to protect Kíliel whenever Aín got close to her. Aín enjoyed fantasising of all the things he would like to do with Thekk to remove him from the equation. Seeing the light go out of those unintelligent eyes of his would be a sight to savour. But he paced himself. As he had already learned, this was a marathon not a sprint, and being patient was the only way into Kíliel's heart.

One day she would be his.

He found himself tickling the end of his beard with his feather pen, dribbling ink all over the official document he was supposed to be signing, and cursed lowly, so Altar looked at him with a hard gaze.

He was saved by the messenger that suddenly burst in the door, a small and fat dwarf sweating as he ran across the room towards Altar. The old Council Leader boomed: «How dare you enter here without as much as a knock? We are dealing with important Council business and wish not to be disturbed by such petty dwarves as yourself!»

The dwarf stopped a meter from Altar, his breath still short, yet his gaze was more uncertain as his eyes flashed between Altar and Aín.

«Well?» Altar urged as he stood over the wretched dwarf, looking down on him past his sharp nose. Aín pitied the dwarf for the position he had put himself in, though could not help but be pleased that it had taken Altar's focus off of himself. His grandfather was very short tempered and Aín did not care for his lectures, which he repeated over and over.

«Erm,» the messenger cleared his throat, and his gaze flashed another time before he spoke again: «The King is dead.»

He had spoken so low, Aín could not be certain he had heard right, but at that moment the horn sounded throughout the Mountain, and Aín knew that he was correct.

It was unlike a shock and yet similar. It came slowly, carefully licking its way up throughout his body, and it felt wonderful. It was a warm, sweet feeling of accomplishment, of possibilities and excitement, feelings he had rarely known. It took all of Aín's power to hold back the smile that pressed on, and he eyed his grandfather to mirror his reaction, to be saddened by the news, which he knew was expected of him. But all he felt was bliss, a dark happiness of the times to come.

This was his time.

* * *

_**Lulkhel -** _ _**Fool of all fools (Khuzdul)** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's officially more than three months since my last chapter, and you must believe me when I say Im sorry from the bottom of my heart!
> 
> The last three months have been the hardest, toughest, most stressful and testing months of my life, and it has physically been painful not to write throughout this entire time! I feel i've let myself, all of you wonderful and faithfull followers and Kíliel down throughout this period, and I hope to be able to make it up to you by being CRAZY productive the next few months! Because now I have officially finished my education, and the next month is just gonna be filled with art, ficcing and creativity on another level! *happybounce*
> 
> That being said, I do hope you enjoy this sooo belated chapter! A big, well actually TWO big twists on the end, giving you an insight into Aín's psychopatical mind (I know a few of you have been very wondering about him and finally its time to show you his true colors!*giggle* ) and with the death of Thorin, which will continue through the next chapter!
> 
> And tomorrow is my birthday, so this is my (hobbit) birthday gift to you all! :D


	12. The Last Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A painful funeral
> 
> A shocking pledge of alligiance
> 
> And a surprise gift from a stranger

There was a silence.

It stretched all throughout the Mountain, filling the air, the stone, the very people of Erebor. It was crushing, deafening, suffocating. It was hard as rock and cold as ice, screaming of what was to come.

Kíliel felt the silence as a hand squeezing her throat. It stole her very voice as they walked solemnly and respectfully through the Mountain, down into the very heart of Erebor. That was where her grandfather would be laid to rest until the time that Mahal would bring him to his halls in the land of ever-living. There Thorin would meet again his father and mother, and dine with his great forefathers, even Durin himself, until the end of time.

While they walked a select few dwarves sang laments of his great life, the saviour of their people and the King who returned to them their Mountain and home. But today the silence reigned, the silence of the people.

Erebor was always buzzing with the echo of talking and laughing voices, the sound of hammers on rock and metal, the burners which hummed in the air, and yet today all those noises were like stolen away. It was only silence.

Silence. And the the erie singing.

Kíliel wanted to scream, to interrupt their stupid song and tell everyone that it was not right. He was her grandfather, and he was no more. She could not accept it. They told her he was only resting, waiting for Mahal, but it was not true.

He was dead! Why could they not simply say that?

She walked behind her Uncle, her father and mother behind her, because she was heir and more important in the line following her grandfather's body down into the crypt. She was dressed in her most beautiful attire, even her circlet, the symbol of her position as heir, which she had rarely ever worn before. It sat heavy and strange atop her head. A joke.

Fíli bore the Crown of the King under the Mountain.

That too angered her. It was not that she did not agree with Fíli being King, because she did, but it was a strange sight. In her mind the crown would ever only belong to Thorin, and seeing Fíli wear it now gave her flashes of shock every time she raised her gaze. It was like seeing Thorin walk ahead of her, even bearing in mind that Fíli's hair was golden and not silvering black.

That very notion made her bite down on her teeth even harder. She would never walk behind Thorin again… This walk, the slow follow down through the Mountain, was their last journey together.

Before Fíli, Thorin was lying on a stretcher of stone, and four dwarves carried him steadily down the path, lead by a train of guards. It would take them most of the day to reach the lowest point of Erebor, the Halls of Mahal where every dwarf was laid to rest.

Despite Kíliel's rapid growing, she was still no taller than her uncle, and today she treasured that, as it meant that she was not able to see Thorin where he lay. She knew that he was covered by a soft fabric so that none might gaze upon his defenceless body. It was a superstition of the dwarves, and as any other Kíliel thought it ridiculous. Yet she was afraid of seeing him.

They said that they had to protect his body until Mahal came to wake him up again, also burying him with his most trusted weapons and grandest treasures in life to use in his after-life. Kíliel had been torn about whether they should bury him with his harp or for her to keep it as a memory. Eventually she had decided that Thorin would be happy for her to have it as a memory of him, to play it like he had taught her. He had always told her that instruments were meant to be played. Whether he was going to the land of ever-living or not, she thought she would have the most use for it.

It was the one thing that had only ever been for the two of them, and now it was the most treasured item Kíliel owned.

—

The train of dwarves following Thorin's wake made their way slowly and steadily down into the Mountain.

It seemed the entire population of Erebor was attending the funeral. There were also important dwarves that had come down from the Iron hills to pay respect to the late King that had done the impossible, taken back the Mountain, without their help.

Dáin Ironfoot was among these. He walked a bit further back in the trail, his head held high, yet with a look of sorrowful reverence about him.

It seemed such a vain and superficial honour in Kíliel's eyes. She could not accept that he was attending the funeral as one of the inner circle, one of the closest to Thorin in familiarity and friendship. He had perhaps helped win the Battle of the Five Armies, but if he'd trusted in her grandfather from the beginning he would have aided him also in the quest, and maybe have averted the battle all-together.

Such thoughts made Kíliel's inside boil with anger. What right did he have to mourn him like she did?

Following after Dáin was Thekk and his father and mother. She could not see him, for she would not turn back, just staring stubbornly at the feet of her uncle as they ascended. But just the knowledge of his presence was a comfort to her.

His words rang in her head. _I have always simply wanted to be someone you can trust, with no hope of marriage or love._ It was true, and she knew it. She had always somehow known that he was different. Thekk had always treated her as _her_ , not as an heir or a princess. When she was with him, she was only Kíliel. Every knot in her body was softened by a warmness when she thought about it, and everything seemed a little bit easier.

And then she remembered where she was and the knots returned, colder and harder than before. _You have to be strong_ , Kíliel thought to herself. _You are the heir, and you must show them that you are not weak._

To keep herself occupied as they walked she continued to think hateful thoughts of Dáin and his apparent place in the line of succession.

She knew that he was the Council's preferred heir, even before Fíli, who was neither a direct heir of Thorin, but having been named King-in-Waiting by the late King, there was nothing the Council could do.

This was also the main reason why she hated Dáin. They were all waiting for a reason to steal the throne, and give it to a _real_ dwarf. She wouldn't let them. She would be Queen after her uncle, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

—

The ascension and the funeral passed in a slow haze for Kíliel, her thoughts too distracted and too fleeting to realise what happened around her, even as Thorin's body was placed on the hollow tomb stone which were to be his final resting place. He would not be placed within it before the end of the ceremony, and laid now covered by the sheer fabric, only hints of his features visual underneath.

While a priest talked, all Kíliel could do was watch Thorin, not hearing a word that was said for her hollow mind. She could barely make out his hands through the fabric. They were resting on his chest, grasping the faintly gleaming hilt of Orcrist which was almost as long as himself as its tip reached his feet. He was to be buried with it, as one of his biggest treasures. There had been some discussions whether or not he should also be buried with the Arkenstone. While the line of Durin was still in succession, it was decided that it would go to Fíli to keep as the new King, a notion her uncle had resisted full heartedly. Eventually he had bowed for the traditions of the old Council-members and graciously accepted the decision. And with Kíliel's reluctance to surrender the harp to the tomb, all Thorin was to be buried with was the sword which had aided him through his journey of retaking the Mountain.

The chamber in which they stood was huge and open so all the tombs of previous Kings laid displayed, each illuminated by several light tunnels and torches, like small havens in the darkness.

All around them the dwarves of Erebor carried torches of their own, each torch representing a thought of love for Thorin, and a wish that Mahal would grant him eternal life. It was said that a good King would have so many torches in his wake that it illuminate even the biggest and darkest of caverns, a pyre to the Gods of his honour in life and death.

As more and more dwarves entered the chamber it grew lighter and lighter, eventually seeming like thousands of stars were gathered in one place, gleaming for the King they had loved and lost.

Kíliel could not image any other King receiving more lights than those Thorin had on this day. No other King could deserve to have more.

There was a faint breeze blowing through the huge chamber where they stood. It moved the fabric over Thorin's body, like the fabric was made of water rather than textiles. Kíliel felt her heart flutter as she watched Thorin's hands, the movement of the fabric making it seem like he was breathing. He seemed soft through the fabric, almost ethereal, as if he already was in the world of the undead. Letting her eyes trail to his face, she thought he was smiling, telling her not to worry any longer.

At this she could no longer remain strong, suddenly realising what she had not up until this day; he was really gone, and she would never again hear his voice tell her to be strong.

She felt her knees grow weak and her body shake as tears welled out of her eyes, rolling like beads down her cheeks, soaking the collar of her beautiful gown.

This was the first time she had cried since she had heard of Thorin's demise. It had been a sealed lock in her chest, a denial in the truth that she knew. Now it burst open. Now she cried. She was sobbing for everything that was breaking inside of her, all she had lost, all she feared of her future, all that seemed hard, all the doubts she had, and all she would never again have with her grandfather.

How could she ever remain strong without him there to teach her what to do?

At that moment she felt a hand on her shoulder and turning she met the watery eyes of her uncle. He looked suddenly young, despite his 128 years of age and his long and braided beard. His eyes had a look of sadness, and yet it was comforting. Fíli knew her fears, as he had felt them his entire life as well, though to a different degree. At that moment they could share in each other's worry and support each other, for the uncertain time to come, one they would endure without Thorin as their mentor and guide.

Kíliel continued sobbing openly, as she hugged her uncle once hard and stood up straight, tears rolling, her body shaking.

She turned and looked at her father, his expression hard with tears streaking his face. But as their eyes met his expression softened and he looked at her with a look of pride and love, renewing her strength in that moment. Kíliel lastly raised her gaze to meet Tauriel's eyes, who stood by Kíli, her arms embracing and supporting him as his leg had been much worse the last couple weeks. Kíliel would have wanted nothing more but to run to her parents and hold them, but Tauriel's supportive smile told her that she did not have to.

Kíliel turned back then and she stood a little taller, letting her tears fall as she grieved her grandfather. She no longer felt that she needed to be so strong, because she had her uncle, and her mother and father, all to support and help her. With that in mind she felt more confidence, knowing that one day she would make Thorin proud of her as the first Queen sovereign of Erebor.

—

By dwarven tradition it is expected that after a funeral, especially one of such gravity as a King's, a mourning period of no less than 30 days is to be respected, which means no celebrations or festivities of any kind. No music or singing or any merriment is to be enjoyed in the mourning period, and the grieving are expected to keep to themselves in their living chambers, and none are to come visiting the grieving or cause them any disturbance.

Being princess and heir, this tradition was somewhat altered for Kíliel, as she still had to attend Council-meetings. That was the only excuse she was allowed to get out of her chambers once every day. And by her standard that was as close to a hostage situation as she could come.

Her foot tapped impatiently as she sat by the Council table, listening to all the elders speak to Fíli of arrangements to be done for his crowning. Apparently the death of a King meant even more matters to discuss, plans to make and more time for Kíliel to be bored listening to things that had nothing to do with her.

 _You are no longer a child and you will have to learn about things you might not like._ She drew a quick gasp of breath as she heard Thorin's voice in her head, clear as if he was really there, sitting as usual in his seat, where her uncle now sat. She remembered his gleaming eyes, his smirk of love and a look of amusement every time she was restless during the council-meetings.

The moment passed. Kíliel sat back, feeling the flutter in her heart and the tears in her eyes.

It happened more and more frequently that she heard his voice in her head, and while it always shocked her, it was also a comfort. It reminded her of things he had tried to teach her, but she had been too young to understand.

This specific speech was from her very first Council-meeting, when she had been too impatient to take it seriously. He had told her that as a princess she would have to care less for her own will, and more for that of her people. She did yet have a long way to go before she could be who he had wanted her to become. It was at the same time disheartening and motivating.

Kíliel spent the rest of the meeting more focused, trying to make sense of their discussions and planning. Even if Thorin was no longer there to teach her, he would always be with her in her heart, and she could still learn from his council, and some day make him proud.

—

As the meeting eventually came to an end Kíliel prepared herself to spend the rest of the day in her chambers, dying of boredom. She wasn't even allowed to attend classes with the other children or have sessions with her mother, so the hours in her chambers were dull and long.

But walking out of the Council-chamber, after all of the older members, someone grabbed her hand and kept her back. Kíliel spun and looked right into the ice-blue gaze of Aín. Her heart beat quickly for a second, before she saw his kind smile and she relaxed.

«May I have a word?» Aín looked at her with a humble expression.

Kíliel watched him for a moment before she nodded in response. She looked back after the others to see if they were completely gone and then closed the heavy chamber door so they stood alone in the now empty room.

Aín had a look of grievance as he held her gaze and spoke: «I hope you can forgive me this interruption in your mourning, Princess Kíliel, I do not mean any disrespect.» He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it in deep reverence.

She felt his lips tremble as if he was on the verge of tears himself. When he lowered it and met her gaze again, she saw that his eyes were glazed. «But I must offer you my condolences. The loss of the late King was a hard blow to all dwarves of Middle Earth, and none felt the blow harder than you, our beautiful Princess. I wish to be of assistance to you, Kíliel, in this hard time, should you want me.»

«I thank you, Councilman Aín, for the honour of your words and your support,» Kíliel said, looking down as Aín smiled, causing her thoughts to rampage again.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled all the times Thekk spoke ill of Aín. Whenever she mentioned him or something he had done or said in her defence in the Council-meetings Thekk snorted and called him a snake, not to be trusted for his sleek words and his manipulating eyes. For her inner eye Kíliel could see Thekk's expression at Aín's words at that moment. Thekk would say that it was all for show, to gain her trust and grant him power for the future.

His smile was indeed charming, but also compassionate, and yet so different from Thekk's trustworthy and friendly grin. She could not handle the big scheme of all the accusations and mistrust. Least not when her mind was already muddled with grief and concern for the future.

 _Thekk and Aín hates each other_ , she thought, that was the one thing she knew for certain, _but does that mean that I must choose a side? Is not the place of an heir to be on all sides, for the good of her people and country?_ It was difficult. Thekk was her friend, but Aín was showing his worth as a supportive Councilman, one she could use to form her own Council one day. Why must everything be so hard all the time? Why could it not be plain?

«But how are you really, Kíliel?» Aín suddenly asked lowly, as he took a step closer to her, losing his formal Councilman stance and voice, his expression so clear and concerned as she had never seen him before. At that moment she was certain that he genuinely cared for her, and she felt tears fill her eyes again.

Kíliel shut them hard and ground her teeth as she felt her knees buckle. Aín stepped forward and held her arms in case she would fall. He lead her to the nearest chair, and she sat, feeling her thoughts as a storm in her head. She did not know what made her cry in this very moment. It was everything. Losing Thorin, all the responsibility she had to deal with alone, the fear of being disowned by the Council, and now Aín's sudden show of support proved to be too much for her to deal with.

«I'm sorry _,_ forgive me,» she pleaded sobbingly into his shoulder as he held her where they sat beside each other on the Council chairs.

«You have nothing to apologise for, Kíliel,» Aín hushed her, lulling her softly from side to side as she cried.

He sighed softly, and moved her hair out of her now wet face, as he continued to hold her steady.

She calmed down after a moment, and found herself enjoy the embrace of someone other than her family. There were so few people she trusted in her life, and it was exhausting. To just give in, and let Aín comfort her, made her feel at ease. It was like a soft veil of bliss was lowered on her senses.

«Thank you for saving me,» Kíliel muttered, not caring how it could be interpreted. She simply meant that he had saved her from another boring hour in her chamber, but she could not have anticipated how he would interpret it. Aín made no immediate response, and she thought nothing of it.

After another moment of silence, he spoke softly: «Do you remember the last time we sat like this?»

At this she leaned away from him and wiped some tears off her face, her expression confused as she thought. And then she remembered. It was the night Thorin had started losing himself, when Aín had found Kíliel crying in the storage chamber, and he had comforted her and helped her even though she had resisted him.

«Yes, I remember,» she said softly, her voice raw from crying. Her thoughts wondered as she now looked at him. How differently she saw him now, almost five years later. Then she had hated him, feared him even. Had he changed, or had she? She could not know.

«It seems a lifetime ago,» he said, his eyes seeming far away, remembering the time himself.

«So much has changed…,» Kíliel muttered, remembering her life before that night. «Sometimes I wish I could go back.»

«Yes, but all we can do is move forward,» Aín said, and met her gaze, his smile thoughtful.

«I was such a child back then,» Kíliel shook her head softly, feeling another tear trace it's way down her cheek. So hopeful. So naïve. «I've always wanted to be mature, for Thorin to be proud of me, to be worthy of Erebor. I have always felt like a failure, now more than ever.»

«There is nothing wrong with being a child, Kíliel. We were both children. And I am happy we have both matured since then,» Aín chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming as he looked at her.

Kíliel blushed, looking down. Had she really matured? Other than her body changing, she could not say.

«I feel I owe you an apology for all the years I spent mistrusting you, Aín,» Kíliel bit her lip and met his eyes again. «It seems I am too suspicious, even by normal dwarven standards.» She rolled her eyes and half smiled as she dried a few more of her tears still coming from her eyes.

«But you are not normal, Kíliel,» Aín said. His voice had a weight of importance, and she looked at him with alarmed eyes. But Aín only smiled supportively, and took her hands in his with a firm grip. Again she couldn't but notice how cold his hands were.

«You are not normal, Kíliel, for you are much, much more special than any dwarf beneath this mountain. You are Kíliel, the heir of Thorin Oakenshield, and the daughter of both dwarves and elves, both people blessed by the Gods. You are a Goddess amongst earthlings, and should be treated thusly!»

Kíliel was stunned.

«And you are no failure. You have simply not had the opportunity to show your worth and might.» Aín's eyes were so intense as he held her gaze, and his grip on her hands was strong and steady. «Thorin knew this, I am sure of it, and he will see all the great deeds of your time from the Halls of Mahal, and you will feel his pride strengthen you through any perilous time that may come.»

She found no lies in his face, and yet… it could not be real?

She could not find her voice for a proper reply, nor the thoughts for it. How could this be? The dwarf that on many occasions had spoken of his hatred of her, of how she was not worthy of the throne of Erebor… Maybe he was right, that they both had matured. One thing she knew for certain; she did not understand the minds of boys and men.

She felt her mouth continuing to hang open as she did not reply, and a blush burned her cheeks as the silence grew heavier and heavier between them. Eventually she lowered her gaze and pressed her hands to her face.

«Why would you say such things?» She said, hands firmly covering her eyes. The words were muffled through her hands, and yet she knew he had heard her.

Aín rose and took her hands to make her rise and meet his gaze. As they stood, he a few inches taller than her, their eyes were locked. He smiled humbly, then spoke: «I said it because it is important that you know the truth, and that it is _your_ truth. You are the most important girl in the entire world, and sometimes it's not enough to have your family explain it to you. So I am telling you this, because I know that you are the Queen I want to follow.»

Kíliel gasped for breath at the last. She had not dreamed of such words coming from anyone, least of all him. Then Aín suddenly knelt before her. He held her hands still firmly in his as he gazed up at her. Her hands felt numb in his cold grip, and she did not know what to do or say.

Aín continued: «So I kneel before you now to tell you that I pledge my allegiance to you, Kíliel, as my future Queen. Know that you always have my devotion and protection, and I will forever be at your service.» He ended the speech by kissing her hands and bowing his head for her.

Kíliel stood, blinking confused, but she knew he meant it. So she simply nodded and smiled, letting her trust grow for a dwarf she had thought she hated. She said nothing, for there was nothing left to say, she simply accepted his words and was happy.

—

After the meeting with Aín, Kíliel walked alone through the Mountain. He had offered to follow her to her chambers, but she had needed the walk to think and clear her head, and had politely declined his offer.

It was a long, solemn walk from the Council-chamber.

None of the people of Erebor looked at her as she walked past, because they knew she was in mourning. This was evident by her black tunic and trousers, and she was not to be disturbed, even as she was walking among the people. Since she was heir they took extra care to respect her, though it seemed to Kíliel like they simply ignored her completely. It was somehow even more isolating than being stuck in her chamber all alone.

She hurried along, not wanting to endure this treatment longer than necessary.

As she came closer to the Hall of the Kings, she felt the restlessness in her legs vibrating, like they knew she was coming closer and closer to confinement. She swallowed and walked with determination, ignoring her elvish need to be active and social.

Kíliel always blamed her elvish side for her restlessness, for while her father and uncle had no trouble being alone for long periods of time or work patiently for hours, her mother hated it. Tauriel would always practice her bow or sword whenever she felt restless after hours of inactivity, and she was taking the confinement of their mourning harder than any of them. Kíliel had even heard her sneaking away to the practice chamber at night, even though it was forbidden for mourners to do any kind of work or exercise.

She giggled at the thought, and wondered if she could get away as well, though the guards paid her mother much less heed than they did her. Kíliel wondered if they really would stop her if she went for an exercise at night-time. She was the heir after all, next in line for the throne even.

She had not thought about it like that before, and it brought sudden, stinging tears to her eyes remembering again that Thorin was indeed dead.

Crossing the Main Hall and entering under the archway that lead to the Hall of the Kings, Kíliel walked on stiff legs, both of reluctance to enter into captivity once again, and of her storming mind, remembering Thorin too well to comprehend his demise. It was too painful, too real. Trying to distract herself, by trying to understand Aín and his mind, was all she could do not to collapse on the floor. It was the other important, and yet intangible problem of her life at the moment.

Though crossing the grand hall, she suddenly heard hushed voices that rose quickly.

«None are allowed to enter the halls of the mourners; this is the law.» It was the hard voice of one of her guards. She finally recognised him to be Ganar, her most protective and caring guard. His eyes were ever kind and not scornful as many others'. He continued: «Leave now and return in six days, when the mourning is complete.»

«It was to be delivered today, that are my orders.» An unknown guard argued loudly, causing Ganar to shush him frustratedly.

«And I am giving you my orders,» Ganar snarled, as he advanced with his fist raised.

Kíliel forgot all about her problems suddenly and walk faster over to the arguing dwarves. As she walked up to the two, Ganar jumped at the sight of her and bowed deeply, and the other was quick to follow his example.

«What is going on?» Kíliel asked, her curiosity getting the better of her as she forgot all manners of etiquette.

«Princess Kíliel,» Ganar said with reverence, his head still bowed before her. As he finally straightened, he continued: «This one has a delivery to make to your Royal Chambers, but I told him that is it not possible during the mourning. You are not to be disturbed, Your Highness, so I will send him away.»

Kíliel saw that the other dwarf was holding a bundle wrapped in silk fabric and ribbons, with a note attached. The thought of endless bore-some hours in her chambers with nothing new to explore made her head ache and so she decided.

«I thank you for your unwavering service, Ganar,» Kíliel spoke in her _Regal_ -voice which was proper and sharp as she had been taught, to give herself more authority, «but I have already been disturbed today so another one cannot make more damage, I'm sure.»

Before either of the guards said another word she grabbed the bundle and passed them swiftly, entering the hallway leading to her chamber. She did not turn to see their reaction, for she did not care for it. It might have been disrespectful of the dwarven traditions, but she thought no more of it. She was too curious to see what was in the bundle.

It was also a dwarven tradition that heirs would move to the chambers of previous rulers after their demise, which was why Fìli had the chamber of Thror, and Kíliel had taken the chambers of Thorin, also as a way to stay closer to him. It was a relief to live alone and not be stuck in the chambers of Kíli and Tauriel. She could hardly handle her own grief, much less her father's. He had Tauriel, and Kíliel had her thoughts and things reminding her of Thorin. The harp stood before the fire as it did the day they played it together for the first time. His chest, working table and leaning chair, and the bed with furs that smelled like him.

Kíliel sat down on the bed, wrapped herself in those furs and turned the bundle in her hands. She started to pull free the end of the ribbon and unraveled what was hidden inside the layers of silk.

It was a doll.

The most beautiful little doll, with porcelain face, red hair and green eyes such as herself. It had the same angled eyes, up-turned nose, and pursed lips so characteristic of any Durin. Kíliel studied it, wondering, before it hit her. It was _her_.

Remembering the note suddenly, she threw aside the silks and grabbed the little piece of paper. She read the few words scribbled there carefully.

«For your payment, so you may never forget how beautiful you truly are.»

It was from the doll-maker, even without a signature she knew it. It was a doll in the same fashion as displayed at her cart, commissioned by the gold Kíliel had mindlessly given the woman.

Kíliel held up the doll again. Such a beautiful face. _That is how beautiful she saw me,_ even thinking the words it seemed absurd, but inside her something changed. She hugged the doll to her chest and fell backwards on the bed, weeping again, for something she finally knew to be the truth. Something she finally could believe in.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this was not AS slow as the last chapter, I am still sorry it took this long, mostly because I really did not want to finish this one, both to spare you, my faithful readers, and to spare my own feelings. It was a tough one, and I would be lying if I said I did not cry while writing out the funeral part.
> 
> This is perhaps my least favorite of my chapters so far, but it needed to be written, and I promise that the next one will be a much lighter one, with more cutsey Thekk and Kíliel fun.
> 
> And what do you make of Aín after this chapter? Yes, he is a hugely manipulative ass-hat, but I would be lying again if I said I do not enjoy writing him, and as an OC i have an unhealthy love for him! (that being said I do not support manipulation, and there's nothing more serious and dangerous than manipulative and seductive relationships! Be aware and take care of yourselves out there!)
> 
> I do hope the next one will be quicker, but again I really cant promise anything, as Im deep in vacation mode and my head is buzzing with fanart to be made! Im bad at prioritising...
> 
> Good night, wonderful people! (and please do let me know what you think of this one! I need your support and feedback to be able to get through this crazy fanfiction!)


	13. Games the Young Play

The year was 2992, of the Third Age, 51 years after the retaking of Erebor. The day was the 24th of February, also known as the Bath-day, ending with the Feast of Mithril, the dwarves' favourite holiday.

And it was Kíliel's least favourite day of the year.

For dwarves there were no wonder why one would dislike this day, considering the painful and bothersome washing and combing of beard and hair. But that was not the reason for Kíliel's displeasure. It had nothing to do with the washing, which she quite enjoyed, and it had nothing to do with the feast, where she would be on display sitting beside her Uncle Fíli, the King of Erebor, for she revelled in all the positive attention.

The reason she hated the 24th of February, was what it reminded her of. Five years had passed, and yet not a single day would go by without reminding Kíliel that Thorin had died. And of all days she hated this one the most, for it was on this day 9 years ago that Thorin began losing himself, the day she started to lose her grandfather.

Five years had passed since his death, and while she no longer broke down in tears at the thought, it pained her all the same. It lingered inside her heart like an open wound, covered up with ointment and bandage perhaps, but still bleeding. And she did not only mourn for Thorin. Shortly after his death, her grandmother Dís had also died, causing her father and uncle even more anguish and sorrow, and that too weighed heavy on Kíliel. She had to be a rock, especially for her father, with his worsened condition. Most important, she had to show them that she was ready to be the Queen of Erebor.

Waking up that morning was therefore particularly hard, even worse so for her late night and restless sleep. The day before had been long with hours in the Council Chamber, endless discussion and planning. Over the course of the last year they had gotten word from the Iron hills and reports of sighting of Orc bands closer and closer to Erebor, attacking in greater numbers and stronger spirits than ever before. For 51 years Erebor had been at peace, ever since the fall of Smaug and the defeat of Azog. 51 prosperous years, but now their kin sought their help to fight off this new threat. War was brewing.

Kíliel knew nothing of war, and she feared Orcs, having heard stories all through her youth of their foul race, though never having laid her eyes on them. Her Uncle and most of the Council had been fighting most their lives for the peace they now had here in the north, and they were adamant not to let it go to waste. It frightened her that it might all change, that their, _her,_ people would go out to fight and die. There were too much death in the world as it was, and she wanted no part in any of it.

As she rolled sluggishly out of bed, she groaned of the familiar aching of her body, and turning she saw the bright, red stain on the skins of the bed. The red torture, as she so humorously liked to call it, come to haunt her for another few weeks. It was all she needed to round up the terribleness that was this day. Cursing loudly, and with such words both in Khuzdul and Sindarin that her parents forbade, Kíliel found her bathing robe and washing kit and left for the washing halls where she knew her family would be waiting for her.

Her family… and maybe a young, brown-eyed boy.

—

As Kíliel approached her father and mother's stall, she heard low discussion. It was her father and uncle who were arguing about something. She heard the words «Orcs» and «not strong enough to fight» coming from Fíli, and the rest she could guess.

Kíli had often of late voiced his intent to join the fight and help his kin with the rising orc-problem, and both her mother and uncle used many long hours trying to persuade him from it. His leg had grown worse ever since Thorin's death. Tauriel thought it came of the stress and pressure he put on himself. Though Kíliel wondered. Every time Tauriel talked of it she seemed to be angry, almost bitter, like it was somehow her fault, and Kíliel could not fathom why. But she did not press the matter, as she wished no more stress on her parents than they were already suffering.

For Kíli thought himself useless, having more and more difficulty standing up-right, and having taken use of a chair with big wheels that Tauriel had designed for his uses and for navigating the Mountain with ease, while comfortably seated. Kíliel understood well that her father wished to show everyone, and himself perhaps the most, that he was still a potent warrior, but she was glad her family opposed him in this. She wished not to lose anyone else before their time, and talk of war put a lump of fear in her throat.

«I am not weak, brother!» Kíli growled, his face wrought in pain, of either suffered honour or his leg Kíliel did not know. They had not seen her coming yet, and she shied from announcing herself in the midst of an argument.

«You know my meaning,» Fíli sighed and eyed his brother with pity. «I simply do not wish for you to throw your life away. We won great valour at the Battle of the Five Armies, can it not be enough for one lifetime?»

«We are still young!» Kíli exclaimed, and then spoke bitterly. «It is like you have aged 100 years by putting on that crown. And in this chair I might as well already be a corpse. Is it so bad that I do not wish for my life to be over?»

«Your life is not over. _Iklifumuni_ (damn it), Kíli, you have never sounded so much like an immature dwarfling in all your life.» Fíli growled. «We lived out our young days, at an earlier age and with greater peril than any dwarfling in this Mountain will ever know. Let now the young have their time of war-games, and accept your surrendered youth.»

Tauriel listened silently, though her hands were at her husbands shoulders as he sat half her size. She had a frustrated expression on her face as she squeezed water out of Kíli's hair. Kíliel had heard her parents discuss it many times, ever since his leg had worsened, and it seemed to her that her mother was finally done arguing. Now it was Fíli's task to speak Kíli from it.

«Sometimes you are more stubborn even than Thorin was,» Fíli muttered exasperated, then a little louder and with more weight: «Think of your daughter! If you will not see reason for me or you wife, do it for her!»

At that Fíli saw her, and her parents turned at his surprised expression. The tension was thick and hot like melting metal, but she approached them all with a smile, as if she'd heard nothing. Kíliel held out her arms to embrace her father, who sat in his wheel-chair, his face turning ever cheerful as he saw her, like all the heated words were suddenly forgotten.

« _Nâthaê_!» He exclaimed and laughed heartily, so quickly turned from fierceness. It seemed to Kíliel that he treasured her company ever more now that she no longer shared her parents' chambers. Not so strange, considering the intensity with which fathers of Erebor protected their daughters. It had surprised Kíliel that he had suffered her to move in the first place.

«Father,» she said with glee and hugged Kíli tightly. «Are you ready to be combed yet again?» Kíliel combed through his beard with her fingers as she spoke. Instantly his expression soured and he looked at her through narrow, mistrusting eyes as she found her comb amongst her bundle and held it up to Tauriel.

«Ready or not, it will happen,» the elf promised, her half smile revealing how much she enjoyed this process of tormenting her husband, and appreciated the distraction from the discussion. She gladly received the comb from her daughters hand. Yet Kíliel saw the small caress Tauriel did, touching Kíli's arm softly in comfort, and she felt her heart flutter of happiness seeing how they loved each other still unwavering. Even after all the hardships, and she knew there had been many between them since the diminishing of Thorin's mind, many fights and disagreements, and yet they supported and loved each other. It seemed a love impossible for this world.

«I suppose I must accept defeat finally, trapped in this chair, being fully at your mercy, my lady,» Kíli grinned and looked to Tauriel with hopeless eyes. He took her hand with the comb and kissed it deeply. «Be gentle,» he pleaded, then laughed and reached up so Tauriel could lean over and kiss his waiting lips.

Standing at their side, Fíli laughed warmly at the joking, and it seemed as though they had all forgotten the harsh words only moment before. But Kíliel saw in her uncle's gaze a hardness that she recognised from previous Council-meetings. She knew that his mind was buzzing with problems and things to consider. The fighting with his brother was not least among these.

Finally he cleared his throat and spoke softly, though Kíliel was always surprised by how kingly his voice now sounded. «Then I will take my leave. A King's duty do not rest, not even on our greatest holiday.»

Kíliel shot a look of despair in his direction, afraid she might have to work today as well. But her uncle laughed and hugged her to him, gently pressing his forehead to hers. «Take the day off, _thatrulkhud_. Small princesses should enjoy this day to the full, and party with easy hearts, untroubled by weighing matters.»

«Thank you, uncle!» She smiled widely, but then tilted her head. «Will you not stay? I'm sure Erebor can spare you for one day, even if you are the King?»

Fíli's smile saddened, and he shook his head. «I fear I cannot, niece, so I will see you all at the feast.»

Bidding farewell, he left the three of them and walked away with the raised head of a King, leaving to do his duty to people and country. Watching him go, Kíliel couldn't but wonder at his dedication and strength. His calm in everything was perhaps her biggest wonder, whereas she was quick to any emotion, he was constantly controlled. That too made her doubt her position as heir, like so many other aspects of herself.

—

After hours of bathing, washing, combing and a nice long steam, Kíliel felt a good deal better than she did waking up that morning. While her longing for Thorin was ever-lingering, it did not feel as heavy as she had anticipated. So with a lighter heart she strolled about the bath-chambers. Halfway back to her parents stall, she thought of Thekk, and she wondered, for she had not seen him this morning, as she usually did on the washing-days, helping him to comb his hair.

She decided to go look for him in his usual stall, for she was curious what kept him from seeking her out. The bathing hall was falling quiet as many dwarves had retired to their living-quarters to get ready for the feast, and entering the part of the hall where Thekk's stall was, she saw only one which had the top of a head sticking out from it; it was Thekk.

She walked silently, for she sensed a possibility of startling him, a game they liked to play against each other. Usually he would win. Not this day.

Kíliel crept closer, walking with hunched back so that he would not see her over the top. As she rounded the stall closest to his, she was ready to call and jump out, but she suddenly froze. In a moment all thoughts had left her mind of games or of winning. Her eyes were wide and her heart beat quickly in her chest, for in the stall, right in front of her, Thekk was standing completely naked.

He was beautiful.

His warm skin was tight over muscled arms, shoulders and chest. He moved as if gracefully as he dried himself with a towel, clearly come straight out of a bath. His hair hung loose and combed finely down his chest and abdomen, where fine, dark hairs curled, and outlined his muscles even more. On his chin, a short beard had started to grow the last year, light brown as his hair, and soft-looking, like the fur of a summer foal. She had of course seen his beard before, but together with his naked body, it made him seem decades older than he truly was, like a true, dwarven man, mature and strong. Her heart beat suddenly too heavy.

Letting her eyes follow his body as he turned and stood with his back towards her, she saw every muscle move lazily as he breathed. From his wide shoulders, down to the small of his back, with dark hair outlining every shape. She couldn't but rest her eyes for a moment on his buttocks, tight and muscular as the rest of him. Usually such an uninteresting body-part, it now made her bite her lip in satisfaction at the sight. Her heart fluttered, as if a thousand butterflies awoke in her chest, and a warmth spread within her.

Never had she imagined that underneath the many layers of clothing that he usually wore, something so beautiful was hidden. He was not tall, lower than her in-fact, and yet he seemed grand as he stood there, like a work of art presented for her eyes only.

And then he turned towards her, letting the towel drop as he started to braid his hair, and all thoughts disappeared from her mind. Kíliel's chin might as well have hit the ground, so far open did it fall, and her eyes grew bigger for every second she looked at him, and the length between his legs.

It was pink. Framed by soft, brown hair, growing forth like a rod of metal, forged to perfection. Kíliel stared, seeing only that which she had never seen before. She realised how long it was suddenly, and wide, almost like the lower part of his arm. And as she looked it twitched and seemed to grow even bigger for a moment.

Her heart beat fiercely and she could hardly breathe as she looked and looked at that which she could not see enough. She knew of course of men and their anatomical differences to that of women, but she had never seen one in real life, and it frightened her as much as it excited her.

Kíliel stood still hunched behind the neighbouring stall, and she suddenly held her breath as she realised what she was doing. This was definitely not princess-like behaviour, but at that moment she could not care any less. She watched a boy… a _man…_ a dwarf, and it did not feel wrong in any way, as if admiring his body was something she had always been meant to do.

Glancing at him again, at _it_ again, her cheeks flushed. She beheld it, and thought what it would be like to touch it. A feeling started to grow outward in her body, through every fibre, every vein, through her very skin. It was a prickling, and it itched her feet to move closer to him, for her hands to feel his warm skin beneath her fingers and for her lips to touch his.

This very notion was like a cold-wash. It was absurd. It was only Thekk. She could not want to kiss Thekk… Could she?

Looking back at him, and the pink member… It was like her eyes were drawn to it by a magnetic force, like it was too important to be ignored, however much she tried, and she was curious.

Kíliel knew how children were made, and she knew of the pains of being a woman, of which cramps were riding her at the very moment. She knew of births and could image their pain, but she did not know this feeling growing inside her. It was alike, and yet different, and it faded out her cramps, her sore breasts and thudding headache, demanding space to be felt within her. It was so powerful, and suddenly it frightened her.

Her eyes like locked on him, she started to imagine new things, and the itch grew stronger in her fingers. She wanted nothing more than to go to him and embrace him, and even… surrender herself. It was a shock of a thought, and though she wondered, she wanted him.

She had not imagined that pleasure could be part of life, and of creating life. How curious.

Kíliel turned away then, tearing her eyes free of the beautiful sight of the boy that she now desired so strangely. She had to leave, before he saw her, and before she did something foolish. So she turned and fled, as quietly as she had come, and left Thekk, as he stood naked and glorious alone in the hall.

Her last thought was of anger, for even now Thekk had startled her, and so won the game yet another time. Would she ever have the chance of winning?

—

As Kíliel made her way back to her chambers, to prepare for the feast, her thoughts circled. She could not shake the feeling that she wanted Thekk, wanted to touch and kiss him. She thought on it over and over, and eventually she came to the conclusion that it was only because he had been so clean. Thekk was usually ragged, muddy and sooty from working the forges, though better these days than when she had first met him. His speech was clearing up too, sounding more Ereborian each day that passed, and his clothes were a bit neater.

The southern and western dwarven kingdoms spoke with a wider accent, whereas the people of Erebor had adopted a sharper sound to their speech. Thekk had slowly adapted to the sleeker speech, but at times he reverted to his brutishness, in moments of anger or amusement.

Suddenly Kíliel felt a stab in her chest, that made her bite her lip and gasp.

It passed, and she cursed loudly as she walked by a group of dwarves that eyed her wondering. Touching her face she sighed, frustrated by the deceit of her body. Trying to calm down by breathing deeply. She prayed to Mahal that these feelings would end as soon as she had gathered herself in the quiet of her room.

But opening the door to her chamber, she met the waiting eyes of Náli. Her dry-nurse had come to help her prepare for the feast, and stood tapping her foot in restlessness, for Kíliel knew she was late, as usual.

«I can prepare myself, you know,» Kíliel groaned, for she had longed for the quiet of her lonely chamber the last hour before the feast. That dream faded quickly as Náli rushed her to the seat in front of the mirror so that she could begin to comb her hair, which was the most time-consuming of the preparations to be done.

Náli snorted a laugh, and began combing roughly, clearly annoyed at her tardiness. «I do not trust your promises, Kíliel, not after last time.» Náli eyed her in the mirror with a raised eyebrow, and Kíliel couldn't choke the grin that arose.

It was the incident approximately 6 months earlier, when they had played host to Dáin and his sons, and Kíliel had pleaded to prepare herself, without Náli's help. And because Kíliel had planned too little time, as she always did, her hair had been uncombed and wet, and her tunic had been inside out as she ran to meet the royal guests, already an hour late. Fíli and Kíli had snickered at her unkempt appearance, both seeing too much of themselves in her, but Tauriel had been mortified. And Náli furious. Rumours had spread that Kíliel had done this to spite the dwarven lord, and the Council had scolded her for it.

Safe to say the dry-nurse would not let her prepare herself for many decades after that incident. And Kíliel pouted in annoyance as Náli combed roughly through her knots, yanking her head backwards with each pull. It was many years since Kíliel had lost all feelings in her scalp, with hair that constantly knotted and took hours of torture to clear out. She dreamed of cutting it short, but that was not the dwarven way, or elven for that matter, and her curly, unruly hair was perhaps the only visible tie she had to Thorin and her position as heir.

Sitting there, enduring Náli's treatment, Kíliel's thoughts wandered again towards Thekk. She thought of his magical, impossible body and its effect on her, which she could not comprehend. Looking at Náli as she struggled with furrowed brows to clear her hair, Kíliel wondered to ask her. She needed to know what it meant.

«Náli, how do you know when you're in love with someone?»

Náli was startled at the question, freezing in her action and meeting Kíliel's gaze in the mirror.

«Love, child?» Her voice was almost weak, of surprise or something else Kíliel did not know. «Well, it is something you must know for yourself. No one can tell you if you love someone or not, you feel it in your heart.»

Kíliel nodded, even more confused than she was a minute ago. How was she to know? She liked looking at him, that was all. She did not particularly like Thekk. He was just a friend. Wasn't he?

«Do you have someone in mind?» Náli eyed her in the mirror with a curious gaze. «Has anything happened you wish to talk to me about?» Náli smiled sweetly at her, and Kíliel wondered to tell her, but decided not to. She did not know what to think of it herself, and before she did she would tell no-one.

«No, nothing,» she lied, and watched herself blush as she again saw Thekk's naked body for her inner eye. «I am only curious.» She smiled mischievously and enjoyed her thoughts.

«Do not worry, young princess. If you find the one you wish to share your life with, you will know it.»

This last comment threw Kíliel a bit. How could she know? She had never known anything with clarity, when it come to herself and her feelings… except for Legolas. Of course! She knew she loved Legolas, but then what did it mean that she had such thoughts about Thekk? Could she love two people at once? Or were these thoughts about Thekk something completely different?

When she thought of Legolas she felt light and warm inside. When she thought of Thekk… No, it was not the same. So different, and yet she had enjoyed watching him.

Kíliel furrowed her brows and thought hard on it, for she did not understand. Not yet.

—

The feast was as always spectacular, in the chamber that seemed to glow by all the decorations, by the dwarves carrying various items of mithril and of the light radiating from the ceiling rifts and the veins of jewels taking and throwing back the lights in millions of different hues.

It was breathtaking, and no matter how many time she had seen it, it always mesmerised her.

Today she arrived in the wake of the King, as the next heir in line she walked close behind Fíli. They were announced and entered the hall to the sight of a light-play that only Laurelin and Telperion might have matched in times long since past in the garden of Valinor, and an ocean of dwarves that filled the wast cavern.

Kíliel didn't care if it was obvious that she stared, she leaned back her neck and took it all in. Immediately tears gathered in her eyes, and she cried bitter tears for her grandfather, who she always missed as she saw this sight. None had gleamed brighter than Thorin during this festival. His eyes would gleam with happiness that the Mountain was finally his again, this festival a monument on the great feat he had done to get it back.

The feast passed quickly, as Kíliel thought of all but the people around her. Most of all she thought of Thekk, and as he sat on the other side of Fíli and Kíli, next to Tauriel and his own parents, Kíliel couldn't but glance at him from time to time. He met her gaze a few times, and always she pretended she hadn't seen him, turning to her wineglass or the various types of meat on her plate. Her cheeks burned and she wished she hadn't seen him that afternoon, but then she remembered it again and couldn't but smile. And so it went the rest of the evening. With a few more wine-glasses than she intended.

In-between her obsessions, she heard her father and uncle discussed things, but Kíliel was too preoccupied to pay any attention. She heard them talk about the looming war again, and of the Council's decision regarding it.

She turned to Aín, who sat next to her, but had been talking to his grandfather up until now. «Were you at the Council-meeting today, Aín?» She interrupted them impulsively.

«Yes, I was, Princess» he answered, a bit surprised by her sudden attention. «Is there anything I can help you with?»

«I'm just wondering what kind of decisions the Council made today. Typical I am not attending the one meeting where we actually discuss things of importance.» Kíliel rolled her eyes and looked at Aín with a wondering expression. Her gaze swam slightly from the wine, and an annoying itch set in her mind.

He looked a bit perplexed, before he answered lowly: «There was a lot of discussions about whether or not we are to help our kin, by sending out soldiers to help fight the orcs, but it is yet to be decided, Kíliel, you still have time to have your say in the matter, I am sure.»

«I suppose,» Kíliel muttered, though she refrained from complaining to him that no matter what, she never had any say when it came to the Council's decisions, so it hardly mattered. «Thank you, Aín,» she then said, clearly ending their interaction. He understood as he nodded and turned back to his grandfather.

Kíliel thought about the coming war, and again she was angry, irrationally so, that they would have to send out young dwarves to die, that there was so much evil in the world. Could they not live happily and peacefully for at least a century before things were ruined?

And then she turned back to Thekk. Meeting her eyes he stood suddenly and walked slowly over to her. Kíliel felt a cold feeling wash through her face, afraid of what he might do. It felt like minutes that Thekk walked towards her, and she couldn't stop her mind from thinking about one, long, pink thing. She was happy then that he could not read her mind.

When he reached her, he didn't stop, but leaned down and whispered, lowly but very audibly, his breath warm against her ear: «You may watch me any time you want, my lady,» then he grinned, straightened and walked away.

Kíliel sat perplexed for a long moment, her slow brain comprehending his words. In panic she thought confused: _Did he read my mind?!_ Finally she understood. Then she gasped and stood up, furious. She did not care who noticed. How dared he? She stood and stomped away, as quickly as she could manage without toppling, after him.

She reached him just outside in the hallway. Thekk heard her come and turned, the amused expression bubbling in his face. At that she was even more furious and grabbing his arm she dragged him after her into the closest storage she could find, which was incidentally the same storage where Aín had held her crying 9 years earlier.

«Whoa, Kíliel, I didn't think you were so eager,» Thekk grinned sheepishly. «But if that's what you want, I won't say no.»

Kíliel flushed red and staggered. «What are you talking about?! And why would you say what you said in there?» She stabbed at his chest with her finger, unable to ignore how firm his muscle was against her fingertip. «I do not enjoy watching you, Thekk, you are disgusting.»

«Ey', I was only joking, no reason to be cruel,» he faked an offended pout, as if his honour was at stake. Though Kíliel had never known him to have one in the first place.

Then he smiled sweetly and took a step closer to her, so they stood but an inch apart, him a little lower than her, but still seeming grand in her eyes. «But I did mean what I said in there, Kíliel.» His voice was suddenly low and his eyes soft on hers. He lifted his hand to touch a lock of her hair that rested on her shoulder.

Kíliel backed so she stood against the closed door, her hands in front of her face. «What are you doing?!» She whined, her heartbeats quick. She could barely breathe as she parted her fingers to look at him quickly. «Stay away from me!»

«You dragged me in here,» Thekk said laughingly, «I thought this was what you wanted.» He Threw out his arms and looked around at the stocked room with barrels and sacks of various items.

She threw her hands down, making fists, remembering her anger suddenly. «I do not want anything. I am just angry with you for saying such things and fluster me so. Must you always win?» She bit hard down on her teeth.

«You did not seem so flustered this morning,» he spoke softly, his voice impossibly deep and enjoyable. He smiled halfway, and bit his lip while lifting his eyebrow.

He tested her, and with a blush as red and hot as heating metal, she straightened and rolled her eyes. «I have no idea what you are talking about.» Her voice shook only slightly.

Thekk barked a laugh. «Now who's playin'?»

They weighed each other for a moment in silence. He, with his amused and mischievous smile, and she, with her stone cold exterior but boiling insides.

Finally Thekk spoke, playfully but sincerely: «You are a truly terribly lier, Kíliel, and besides… I saw you,» he tilted his head to the side and looked at her with a testing look, «though I heard you better.» He laughed again, more shyly than mocking now. His kind brown eyes held her for a moment, and she felt breathless.

«You are disgusting,» she repeated, halfheartedly now, her eyes lowered to the floor as she felt the fight leave her body. Her thoughts swam in a haze of wine.

«I am not the one lurking and watching my friend while they change,» Thekk grinned playfully, expecting her to return the ball.

«I do not like this game,» she breathed. «I don't want to play anymore.» Her humiliation was complete and she turned around to leave. Never. She would never admit it to him. So it was better to leave before she said anything else.

«Kíliel.» He spoke her name with force suddenly, demanding. She froze, her hand on the handle of the door, ready to flee.

He walked towards her, stopped so close to her that she could feel his warmth radiate through their clothes. «You do not need to look at me if you do not want to,» he whispered softly against her hair. She felt his hand barely touch the fabric on her waist, and a shiver went through her, but she was not cold.

«I am sorry. I will never mention it again.»

Every word he spoke against her ear sent waves of warmth through her, right out to her fingertips, and she bit her teeth harder, for she mustn't turn around. Mustn't show him.

«But know that I am not ashamed, and I am not embarrassed, and neither should you be.»

Kíliel bit so down on her teeth her jaw started to hurt. Tears traced down her cheeks. When had she started to cry? She did not remember. Her head swam, feeling only his words, and his warmth against her, so close that if she turned around their lips would surely meet.

«You need not fear your feelings. It is only natural,» he muttered lastly, his hand caressing her hair again.

But at this she froze.

_NO!_

Kíliel threw open the door and ran, too quick for him to protest, to stop her, to enchant her again. She would not have it. Nothing was natural with her, and she would have no excuses. She would not accept it, not if that's how he felt.

She ran so fast she lost all feelings in her legs, hearing only the rhythmic thumps of her small feet against the floor. She ran all the way to the Hall of the King, her breath coming hard and her heart beating painfully in her chest. In the middle of the great hall she slipped and fell. She remained lying there on the cold stone floor, heaving for breath. She lay facing the ceiling. Seeing the vein of emerald and adamant and sapphire, and she felt like them, trapped within the mountain, squeezed and pressed to fit the mould.

It was not natural.

She cried then, feeling everything; the ache in her belly and breasts; the ache in her mind to fit in, to love and be loved without all the trouble; the ache in her head for the wine. It was all just too much. She had finally burst.

* * *

**Translation:**

_Nâthaê_ (My daughter) - Khuzdul

 _Thatrulkhud_ (Starlight) - Khuzdul

* * *

You may be as surprised as I am at how quickly this chapter was finished (exactly a month to be exact) and it may be that getting back into a regular schedule helps my general artistic inspiration, though I feel this chapter was way harder to write than it actually was!

And yes, it is scandalous, we are going over to the more mature stage of Kíliel's experiences and growth, and isnt it wonderful? I can't rightly say how much I enjoyed writing about Thekk's body, and yes I do feel a bit awkward about it. They are like my children, and I dont want them to grow up, but what can you do? Well, I tried to make it tasteful and realistic at the same time. Keep in mind that Kíliel is aprox 14-15 mental years of age at this stage, and we all know what kids at that age are like. Horny, curious and embarrassed... indeed.

This is also at the point where Kíliel can feel the relationship between her and Thekk truly evolving, tho it might have been like this some time for him already. I had a veyr fascinating time writing her at this stage, as I had intended for her to be more curious and less in denial, but she is her grandfathers granddaughter, and we know Thorin was not the most obvious with his emotions, so it came very natural to my writing that Kíliel would be just as oblivious to her own emotions and how to handle them. I hope this all makes sense, I'm having a great time with this so I hope you do too!

And this may be my best chapter so far, if I may say so myself.

Cheers,  
Iggy


	14. A Tattoo, A Party, And A Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feels... So many feels. Brace yourself, and enjoy! <3

«Kíliel, are you really going to do this?» Thekk looked at her with a partly amused and partly uncertain expression as they walked through Erebor. His thick eyebrows curved upwards in his usual sweet expression that made Kíliel want to punch him in the face.

She rolled her eyes. «Today I am 50 years old, Thekk, I can do as I want,» she grinned sideways. «No matter what you or my mother say.»

Thekk clicked his tongue, like being compared to her mother was nothing strange, and glared at her with fake disapproval. «But think of the scandal!» He suddenly exclaimed theatrically, causing Kíliel to jump, and a few dwarves to look at them with curiosity. They quickly lowered their gazes and bowed before their Princess as the young dwarves passed, and turned back to their own labour.

Kíliel nudged him hard in his side. «Why must you always make such a number of things? It's only a tattoo.»

Thekk groaned and rubbed his ribs. «Then why did you ask me to come?»

«I didn't!» Kíliel exclaimed and threw out her arms. «You just decided to follow me, remember? That was five minutes ago.»

He grinned widely and laid an arm around her neck. As she was an inch taller than him she had to crouch down awkwardly at the sudden movement.

«I am only thinking of you, Kíliel. I am your friend, am I not?» He spoke condescendingly, and she ripped free from his grip. «You do know how painful the process is, right?»

Kíliel scoffed and rolled her eyes. «I know I am half-dwarf, Thekk, that does not mean I am made of glass, even though you might think so.»

«You know my meaning,» Thekk sighed and looked at her sideways. «I just want to make sure you know what you are doing.» Then he added with a theatrical shocked expression: «And think of your reputation! You are the Princess!»

«Exactly,» Kíliel answered, not showing her annoyance with his behaviour. «Maybe a tattoo is exactly what I need for my people to see me as more of a dwarf,» she spoke, biting down on her teeth and exhaled heavily. Then she added muttering: «It's not like any of the actual signs are visible with clothes on.»

Thekk eyed her at that last comment, but said nothing. Ever since she had seen him naked, and he knew, he had behaved strangely around her, or more so than usual. He would suddenly become serious, even though they were joking, and his looks were too lingering, making Kíliel uncomfortable. It was overall annoying.

Like any normal Durin, Kíliel worked hard to pretend the incident had never taken place. It was a lot easier than having to confront him about it, which hadn't been very successful the first time. His words to her that day in the storage room still gave her chills. So many implications, and so many uncertainties.

Kíliel didn't know if he behaved awkwardly because she had seen him naked, or because she had not replied to him. She didn't want to find out, so she didn't ask.

«Come on,» she finally said and quickened her pace. «We're almost there.»

Thekk followed after, his wistful expression turned to his usual amused smirk once again. And Kíliel felt easier at heart.

They turned the corner to the Market-hall and passed many small shops and stalls before they reached the little alcove where Erebor's famous Tattooer worked behind a hanging so not to be disturbed. From within she could hear small noises, grunts, and hard breathing, and Thekk shot her an amused grin. She pursed her lips, determine to ignore him, and readied herself instead.

The hanging in front of the alcove was covered with countless designs and braids, along with khuzdul phrases and proverbs, all examples of tattoos one might get. Kíliel examined them all, though she already had her design ready. She had sketched it on a little piece of fabric, which she had in her pocket ready to show the Tattooer. Thekk had asked to see it, but she had not shown him. No one would see it before it was etched in her skin, not even him.

Finally, two dwarves emerged from the alcove, one with fresh tattoos covering the sweaty and glistening forehead and scalp, and the Tattooer. Both looked at Kíliel and Thekk with surprised expression, recognising her as the Princess and Heir of Erebor, and him as the royal Prince. Then they both bowed their heads, and the dwarf with the new tattoo hurried along, while the other looked her up and down. He was not tall, but he was still a big dwarf, almost as wide as he was tall, with bulging muscles, and his skin completely covered in tattoos, so that at first sight it seemed as though he was black of skin. He looked threatening, which she knew was the intent of the tattoos in the first place.

«Milady Heir,» he grumbled and held the hanging aside so she could step into the alcove. Kíliel bowed her head in thanks and walked in. He asked for no explanation, and only rose his eyebrow a bit as Thekk moved to follow.

He closed the hanging and they all stood in the cramped chamber, if it could be categorised as that. It was only a few square feet big, with a stone table to lie or sit on, depending on where the tattoo would be placed on ones body. The Tattooer had a small stool, which held even his enormous body as he slumped down on it. On a ledge along the wall stood numerous flasks, ink she guessed, and various tools, knives, and small rods stood in jars.

He grumbled something, and Kíliel thought it her cue to show him her design. She jumped up on the table and found the piece of cloth, handing it to him. Thekk stood wavering at the end of the table and moved to stand behind the tattoo-artist to better see the design. He let out a small, surprised puff of air, but said nothing as her cautious eyes met his, daring him to speak a word. For once in his life he kept quiet.

Kíliel spoke before either of them: «I want it just between my shoulder-blades, at the nape of my neck, covering my entire upper back.»

The big dwarf grumbled again and handed her a pillow. Kíliel understood. Slowly she started untying her west. She had tried to prepare herself for this bit, for she had never undressed before any man, but her father when she was younger. Even though she would not be naked in the full meaning of the word, exposing even her back made her heart quicken, and breath come shallowly. Dwarven fashion was very restrictive to the view of naked skin, and most tunics and attires were long sleeved and allowed for no skin, even on the chest, to be visible.

She caught the eyes of Thekk once again, his steady eyes that always encourage her. Now he looked more shocked than she had ever seen him, and her heart was further enthused.

Thekk had not known even where Kíliel had wanted to place the tattoo, and hearing her explaining this, and then starting to remove the upper part of her clothes, he suddenly caught on.

Kíliel had made sure to wear tunics she could lower beneath her shoulders without taking it over her head. And as she proceeded to undress, pulling the sleeves off from over her hands so that the wide neckline of the tunic she wore lowered itself beneath her bare shoulders, Thekk could feel his heart beating harder and harder.

The most naked he had ever seen her had been in her bathing tunic, and even that covered her body from shoulders to feet. Seeing her now, getting gradually less clothed before his eyes, he could hardly think straight.

Kíliel made sure to keep her back to the men as she undressed down to the waist, and then hugging the pillow over her chest she laid down on the table.

Thekk stared openly, and in the back of his mind he was glad that Kíliel could not see him at this moment, her face turned the other way. She had gathered her wild hair, so her entire back was exposed. She was pale, shimmering like mithril against the fiery red of her hair. In this dim, dark and rough-looking chamber, she all but glowed, bright so it almost hurt his eyes. Her shoulders were speckled with freckles, like little, brown stars.

Thekk felt his mouth grow dry.

Her skin looked so soft, so clean and hairless, which he liked, surprisingly enough. With each breath she took her skin moved over her muscles and bones, and Thekk wanted nothing more than to touch her. He imagined it would feel like touching water, soft and playful and yet tingling to the skin.

He could hardly breathe as he felt his head grow warm. His thoughts had no reins.

Then he was pulled back to reality, for the big dwarf readied his tools to begin. He held in one hand one short stick with a knifelike spike at the end, which was half an inch in length, made of silver, and in the other he held a shorter but sturdier rod that he would use to beat the marking into her skin. It was a very painful process, he knew that, though he had no tattoo of his own, yet. He had seen his own father getting one a few winters back, and even the big and strong Dárin had growled like a mountain lion of the pain.

The Tattooer dipped the spike first in ink and then laid it against Kíliel's soft skin. Thekk could see her shaking slightly against it, and he felt an invisible hand on his throat. He wished she would never feel pain, and then she went and did this to herself. He slowly walked around the table. That was when the dwarf started beating, and Kíliel let out a small squeaking noise.

Thekk took her hand then, and crouching in front of her face he put his forehead to hers. At first she was stubborn, and though tears formed in her eyes of each sound of rod against rod against skin, she resisted his help. But after a long moment of rhythmic beating, she yielded, and grasped his hand harder, pushing her forehead against his and embraced his supportive presence.

This little act of faith made a warmth spread within Thekk, like each rare moment that Kíliel showed him her trust. Ever since their confrontation she had been extra reserved, and it had frustrated him in a way he could not explain, but now it felt like a cold ball of metal finally evaporated within him, leaving only happiness in its wake.

Grasping her hand, being inches away from her beautiful face, and touching her wild hair with his other, he felt more at peace than he had ever been. It was a shame it had to come from her pain.

—

The process was long and excruciating.

For every mark he made on her skin, he had to pry the knife out of her flesh and repeat, barely a hair-width from the previous mark. Each beat of the rod felt like a red-hot knife biting the fine skin on her back. It was blindingly painful; across the ribs and spine mind-numbingly excruciating. Kíliel could not guess how long she had been lying there, or how many times she had drifted in and out of consciousness from the pain.

It was endless, and yet she felt Thekk's hand grasping her hand, his forehead to hers, as he whispered to her little words of encouragements. For a while he had been singing, but she could not be sure it had not been a dream. He had sung to her of a princess with fiery hair, and the power of Kings in her blood. His voice was warm and low as he hummed, and she breathed more easily of it, ever feeling the bite of the knife against her back.

Each time it was removed she had a hope it would be done, but every time it would be beaten down another time and then another time. She did not think she could take it much longer. It was a torment unlike any she had ever experienced. Never again would she complain of her womanly pains; it was nothing compared this torture.

«Make it stop,» she finally muttered to Thekk, when she felt her mind break and she could not go on. Tears streamed down her face, and her hand was cramped from holding his too tightly for too long.

«It is done, Kíliel,» Thekk said with a soft voice, and as she opened her eyes to understand, she suddenly felt a coolness spread across her back, numbing her skin to the pain. It was the Tattooist who had applied relieving ointment to her new tattoo. Her skin absorbed it, and she exhaled so heavily she felt like she would melt and pour down from the table like water. Never had she been so comfortable. She let all her muscles relax, and felt how tightly she had been wound.

«You can be proud, Princess Heir,» the Tattooer suddenly spoke with his deep voice, like the sound of a cavern. «Not every dwarf endures such a long session, and no lass before you, I might add.»

Kíliel did not feel proud, though the feeling would come to her later that evening. At this time she was only tired, light-headed and rather afraid to move.

«You can sit up,» Thekk suggested and took her hand to help her move. She did as he said, but kept a firm grip on the pillow covering her breasts. She was not so light-headed that she would let them see her naked, least of all Thekk. Not after what had happened when she saw him naked.

Kíliel exhaled and tried to move her back to see how it felt, and while it felt sore, there were no pain. The ointment had to be very effective, though she had no doubt she would feel it as the evening progressed. That reminded her.

«How long have we been here?» She turned to Thekk, and he shrugged.

«At least eight hours, as the call to supper was not too long ago.»

«Then we are not too late for the party!» Kíliel suddenly exclaimed and practically jumped down from her seat. Thekk was taken aback by her sudden energy, and held out his arms.

«Kíliel, slow down. What about your tunic?» He looked her up and down and then turned quickly away like he had remembered how she was, or rather not, dressed.

«Oh,» Kíliel remembered too. Awkwardly she put tried to dress herself again, still holding the pillow for cover, but as she proceeded to drag the tunic up over her shoulders it scraped along her back and she cried out in pain.

Thekk turned to her again. Instinctually he wedged his fingers on the inside of the tunic at her back, so it would not touch her skin. In the process his fingers had come to brush her skin, and he felt flushed as he helped her carefully to lift the fabric up so it covered her back completely. He pretended nothing had happened, but the thought and feel of her skin haunted him all through the night.

As they were about to leave, Kíliel turned to the Tattooist. She held out the purse with gold that she had brought to pay him for the work, but he put his hand over hers, and shook his head in a determined way. «A gift,» he simply grumbled, turned back and let the hanging close so they stood alone outside his shop.

Even with the small words, Kíliel felt the great impact of the honour this man had offered her. Dwarves took not little heed of their work, and for one not to accept payment… it was to be taken as a great gift indeed, a sign of honour and reverence. Kíliel knew, even with the wounds still aching on her back, that she would get more tattoos from this dwarf, simply for that act alone.

—

The dwarves' 50th birthday celebration was a grand event, and yet an exclusive one. Only a few hundred of Kíliel's closest acquaintances were invited. Being invited to a royal's 50th birthday was a great honour, and dwarves would brag of that to their kin for many generations to come. So it was no little event, and Kíliel felt her belly bubble with anticipation, both for the party and for the unveiling of her new tattoo.

She stood in her chamber studying it. She had rushed to the mirror to see the tattoo the minute she got home and started undressing herself. Carefully she untied her bodice, and started to remove the tunic, carefully lowering it down her back without it touching the skin too much. It was rather painful and inconvenient to be doing this alone, but she had sent Náli away, demanding that none saw her before the party. The revealing of the tattoo had to be a magnificent one, with authentic reactions for everyone present.

Finally naked, she was standing breathless of the sight. Other than the soreness of her skin and the red marks around the tattoo, she was in love.

It was perfect, exactly as she had imagined.

« _Nathith u gimil ra abban_ ,» she read quietly. It was written in runes in a circle just between her shoulder blades, with lines circling on the inside and outside of the runes. In the middle was a star with ten spikes and ten stones were circling it, one between each spike. It was what he had called her, Thorin, 'Daughter of Stars and Stones'.

She felt a grip of longing on her throat then. He would never see the tattoo, but while she did not believe all the myths of the dwarves, she believed he was out there somewhere, in the halls of Mahal, thinking and longing for her as she did him.

Kíliel was proud of herself today. She had denied and hated her halfness all her life. But she had finally realised that it was nothing to be done about it, and while it still angered her that she was neither completely elf nor dwarf, she would be the best dwelf in the world, and she was proud.

She turned away from the mirror then. It was getting late. Even as the party started at the call of midnight, she mustn't be late, as the tattooing had already taken many hours of the day.

Kíliel went to the chest by her bed where she kept all her clothes. The tunic she was now looking for was one she had sown herself. That too was a matter of pride for her, as she had as much skill with the needle as she had any other crafting tool. Her hours in the council chamber and with her mother left little time for anything else to be learned. And while she could now name all the dwarven realms, their history, and what they shared of produce with Erebor, as well as speak fluent Khuzdul and Sindarin, she was embarrassed for her lack of skill with crafts of trade. But such was the life of an Heir, and it was more important for her people that she could one day rule them, than make gems or tunics.

This new tunic was entirely unique. It was open in the back, with a cut that went all the way down to the small of her back, yet it was high on the front, and covered her arms all the way down to her wrists. To this she would wear her hair in a new fashion. She would braid it on both sides of her head, and collect them so they joined at the back of her head and turned around to fall over her chest rather than her back, where it would finally release all the locks to flow freely. On her head she would wear her diadem, and her belt had her symbol as the heir on it. That way nothing would hide her upper back, and yet it would be in a dwarvish fashion.

Kíliel began dressing, her thoughts considering everything, and suddenly the thought of Legolas reentered her mind, like the hit of lighting against stone. It always shocked her to the core when her thoughts found him, as they did more and more frequently ever since the incident with Thekk 9 months before.

It shamed her to admit it, even to herself, that the incident had made her think more and more of Legolas, and imagined how his body must look. It was of course impossible to imagine that what she had seen of Thekk's body could in any way be similar to Legolas' body, but it didn't stop her mind from trying.

Now she wondered if he would like, or even approve of her tattoo. Elves didn't tattoo their skin. They were eternal, and their skin and body sacred, as her mother had lectured her over and over. It always infuriated Kíliel when she did. For all they knew she would grow old and die long before her mother even. There was no way of knowing, and therefore no reason to care.

Kíliel knew all the ancient songs, of half elven choosing their way of life, mortal or immortal, but she had no hope of that choice being given to her. And even if it were, what then? Would she choose immortality, living forever as the undead queen of Erebor? It did not sound like something the dwarves of the Council would approve of.

Kíliel chucked of her own needless thoughts, and shook her head of it. It rewarded none for her to think that way. «Get through this night,» she spoke lecturing to her own image in the mirror, «and then we can discuss the rest of eternity.»

—

The party was grand. Enough ale and wine to last all night, and the dwarves were already well into the reserves when Kíliel turned up. A band was playing merrily, on harp and drums and flutes. It was all as she had hoped. Even the reveal of the tattoo went much like Kíliel had expected.

She stood in front of the royal table that stood on a platform a few feet over the dancing floor. She spoke to them all, welcoming them, and thanking them for coming to celebrate the party of her 50th year with her and her family. She spoke of Thorin and of how they all missed him at this night. Then she rounded off the speech with a promise that she would live up to his image, and one day be the Queen that Erebor and its people needed.

Kíliel fell quiet after the speech, letting the applause die out before she continued.

«And as the Heir I want to embody the virtues and tradition of our honoured people, that is why, on this day that is my 50th birthday, I decided to get a tattoo, that honours me, your princess, as well as this country, our beloved Erebor, and its proud people. For even though I am half, I want there to be no confusion as to where my loyalty and where my heart truly lies.» Then she slowly turned around and showed them all her back.

Firstly it was quiet, then the reactions came. Some dwarves gasped, others whispered among themselves, and a few had called out in honour and bowed before her. Then it was her family, and while Kíli and Fíli laughed amused, and told her it was beautiful, it was her mother's reaction that surprised her the most.

Tauriel came to her, her expression unreadable as always, her lips pursed and her eyebrows slightly raised. Kíliel's heart beat hard as they stood before each other, unsure of her mother's thoughts. Then Tauriel laid a hand on each side of her face, and kissed her forehead deeply. «You are beautiful, Kíliel, and so is the tattoo. It is right. It is you.» Tears formed in her eyes as she spoke. «I am sorry I have not been more supportive.»

« _Le channon, Nana_!» Kíliel said, her smile breaking in a blissful smile. «But I want you to know that it does not mean I abandon my elvish heritage. This was simply something I had to do for me, and for the dwarvish part of me.»

«I understand, _iellig_ ,» Tauriel said, then she leaned down closer and whispered: «And I always want you to do what is right for you, regardless of what the Council, your father, me or even your uncle says. Promise me you will live your life for you.» Her face was soft and full of love, an expression that reminded Kíliel of the younger, easier days of her life. Now the expression was more and more rare to see on her mother's face, and that made Kíliel treasure this moment even more.

«I promise, mother,» Kíliel said, but in the back of her head she wondered if she ever could keep that promise. It felt like all she did was live her life for someone else, for her Kingdom and people most of all. But she would change that, or try to. She owed her mother that.

Finally Tauriel caressed Kíliel's hair and hugged her, careful not to touch the skin on her back. «Now go, enjoy your party!»

And Kíliel did, her thoughts finally carefree and happy for this joyous day.

—

As the night progressed she was approached by many friends and many faces she knew only in passing. Everyone wanted to congratulate her on her birthday and on her new tattoo. It seemed everyone were curious to hear the story behind it, and Kíliel was happy to oblige, and found herself repeating the story many times to awaiting ears. Rarely had Kíliel ever felt this kind of approval from her people. It seemed the tattoo had done its job well.

She also danced long.

It was fun, a concept Kíliel had almost forgotten, and she felt alive and blissful among dwarves that loved and supported her. Often her eyes went to Thekk's face, and then her mind went to his body, and watching him move with the rhythm of the music she felt her heart quicken and her mind wander. She felt a change in the air, but she was yet to find out what it meant.

After many hours of dancing, she stood with Thekk and two other girls of her class, Katla and Nanní. As girls they had never had much in common or been close in friendship. As the elder with two years on Kíliel, Katla had always seemed too self-assured for Kíliel's comfort. Nanní was younger and sweet enough, but she always seemed to trail after Aín, whenever they were in a room together, and Kíliel had a feeling Nanní resented her for spending much time in the Council chamber with him every day. Therefor Kíliel had never bothered much with the two girls, but today they surprised her. They were open and enthusiastic, maybe because she was the first woman of her age to have gotten a tattoo. Or maybe they too had mistrusted her, thought her an elf, and now the tattoo proved them wrong. Either way, Kíliel was pleased about the change. It was a fresh breath having some girls her own age to talk to, not just her mother and Náli.

They all laughed as Thekk made fun of one of their old teachers, and Kíliel was happy. It was the first time she had felt such a part of the group, whereas before she had seemed the odd one out, not quite fitting in.

So Kíliel was in a haze of bliss when she parted with the group to go fill up her cup with more wine. She had already had a decent few. Her body was light, her fingers and lips pricked like with stars, and the pain on her back was hardly noticeable.

As she reached the barrel, Katla suddenly moved in next to her and placed her hand around Kíliel's arm. The girl, a good few inches lower than her, seemed big somehow, like her attitude and confident movement made her grander than Kíliel. It was perhaps that she had always been intimidated by Katla, as the leading female and most confident of their class. But in the back of her head Kíliel reminded herself that she had nothing to worry about; she was after all Princess. Katla was not.

«Oh, Kíliel, I am so pleased we can be friends now,» Katla chatted as they walked about the room, stopping by one of the columns, with a view straight at Thekk, Nanní and the other dwarves of their class. Aín was not there. Thinking of this, Kíliel suddenly realised she had not seen him all evening. She wondered where he might be, before Katla pulled on her attention again.

«Because I really wish us to be friends, Kíliel. And I hope you can forgive me my childish naiveté before today. I must admit I am very intimidated by you and your uncertain position.» Katla looked at her with a sweet smile.

Kíliel fought hard to keep her expression from turning sour. It was extra hard, being affected by the wine. She did not trust Katla, and her words seemed rehearsed, but Kíliel was curious what she would say next.

«But I really want to get to know you better, to be someone you might trust in the future.»

Kíliel almost snorted. Why did everyone want to be someone she could trust? It was a strange desire, but she could not blame her. Dwarves took that sort of thing very seriously.

«I hope so too,» Kíliel instead found herself saying, and almost meaning it. Yes, she did want to have a female dwarf her age that she could trust. Time would show if Katla was that dwarf. «We dwarrow-dames must stay together,» she added as a show of good will.

Katla brightened instantly, and her smile widened.

Looking at her, Kíliel realised that she was beautiful; she was a beautiful dwarven lady. Her face was wide but kind and strong, with eyes big and clear. Her sideburns had started to fill in, as well as a small beard that shaped her jaw. Her hair was black and soft, braided in many fashionably styles. Her body was shapely, big breasts, strong arms, wide hips and soft belly, under a beautifully sewn tunic, most likely her own craft. She was the perfect dwarven woman.

It hit Kíliel that this was the true reason she had never wanted anything to do with Katla. She was everything Kíliel wanted to be, the perfect dwarven appearance for the future Queen of Erebor. Instead Kíliel was tall, slender, wide hips that did not fit her strangely thin waist, and too small breasts, long arms and face, and hairless anywhere but her crotch. No wonder she had felt odd compared to Katla. Knowing this, Kíliel pulled herself together. There was no reason to dislike anyone simply out of jealousy. And so she decided that she would be Katla's friend, regardless of her own shortcomings.

They talked for a little while, of their lives in the Mountain. Katla told of her life as the daughter of a fabric trader, of her mother that had passed away in childbirth, and her solitary life while her father was out with the Ereborian caravan most of the year.

In return Kíliel told her everything about herself, and with the wine, probably more than would be advised. She told of her life as the Princess Heir, of the Council and their mistrust in her. She told of Thorin and how she wanted to make him proud. Lastly she told of Thekk, and how she had mistrusted him most of her life for the Council's plan to make him King, and then how it had changed when Thorin had told her the truth. She did not tell of Thekk's words to her in Dale that day, or of how she had seen him naked earlier that year, or of Thekk's support earlier that day during her tattoo-session. They were not so close friends yet that she would ask advice about him or of her feelings towards him, but maybe some day.

After she had spoken for a long while, Katla smiled thoughtfully. «You have such an exciting life,» she muttered. Kíliel did not agree. It was annoying, confusing, frustrating, angering, pathetic, and tragic, but not exciting.

«But there was something I was hoping to ask you,» Katla added, before Kíliel could reply.

«Ask me anything,» Kíliel answered, her smile patient.

«As you say, you are friends with Thekk,» the girl started, her face suddenly turning red. Kíliel felt her heart drop in her chest, somehow knowing what she was going to ask. She continued: «And I thought… maybe you know… if he is interested in taking a wife?»

Kíliel's face turned white, or it felt like it, as she could hardly breathe. Why would she ask such a thing?

Katla continued quickly, as if reading Kíliel's thoughts: «I know it is a strange question to ask, but, you see, I have always liked him. And as you said, you two are not to marry after all… so I thought… Maybe he would want to marry me.»

«Aren't you a bit young?» Was all Kíliel managed to say, without screaming at her.

Katla seemed taken aback, like that question was the shocking one. She was quiet, her face lowered, before she looked at Kíliel again, her eyes filled with sadness now. «I am very lonely. Father is always away, and I am always alone. I wish I could live with someone, and take care of them. Thekk has always been kind to me, and he is rather handsome.»

Kíliel felt her chest fill with anger, and then with shame.

«I do not know, Katla,» Kíliel stuttered, seemingly not in control of her mouth. «He has never spoken to me of any plans of marriage, but if you truly want to know, you should ask him yourself.» The words were so heavy, and Kíliel did not know why. Why would she begrudge another to marry the man she did not even know if she wanted? It was selfish, and yet it pained her to even consider the possibility.

«Do you really think so?» Katla looked at Kíliel, her eyes sparkling with hope. Kíliel fought hard not to show her the pain in her chest at seeing this girl's happiness. Such a selfish pain. All she could do was nod, and smile weakly.

«Thank you, Kíliel. Now I am very glad I dared ask you, and be assured I will not ask him tonight. I would do nothing to steal the attention on your 50th birthday. But thank you so much!» Then Katla kissed her hands and giggled as she walked away, leaving Kíliel leaning against the column.

Kíliel was numb, and yet there was a storm raging inside of her. She looked at Katla as she returned to the group and stopped next to Thekk. He turned to meet her gaze then, and Kíliel turned away, her lips and hands trembling. She was afraid of what she would do if she held his gaze too long.

She fingered the cup she held, half-full of wine, and she downed it all. She filled her cup again, downing it all. A tear released from her eye and traced down her cheek. She wiped it stubbornly, not allowing herself to cry on this day, the best day of her life. Why did it hurt so much? She couldn't comprehend it.

A vision of Thekk's body flashed across her mind. She gasped. His beautifully sculpted legs, the dark hairs covering his chest and abdomen, his strong arms and shoulders, and the pink length between his legs. She couldn't think straight, and her vision blurred.

She staggered and walked away from the group, trying to find somewhere to sit down. There was a group of tables and benches on the other side of the grand hall, but she couldn't see straight, and it was difficult to move her feet where she wanted. She walked straight into someone then, and they spoke in surprise.

«Kíliel, there you are,» she was surprised to find that it was Aín who had spoken. He held her arms as she staggered.

«My saviour, once again,» she spoke under her breath.

Aín chuckled and walked her securely to a seat a few paces away. «And how much wine have you had tonight?»

Kíliel wrinkled her nose and scowled at him. «Not so much,» she pursed her lips for a moment. «The room is spinning, that is all.»

«I am sure it is,» Aín raised his eyebrow and smiled.

Watching the princess, he felt the pleasure he only felt in her company, a gnawing kind of desire, growing uncontrollably. She was particularly beautiful this night, her hair collected and braided and yet wild and released as it fell over her full, plump chest. She was clearly drunk, for she held her hand on his arm in a relaxed, trusting way she had never done, and it tickled his desire even more. Her vacant, naive expression, those deep, green eyes holding him with a soft, sad smile made it very hard for him to detain himself. Had they only been alone.

«You have not seen it yet!» Then she practically jumped, and turning around in her seat she showed him her back. To his joy, the entire back of her tunic was removed, so her entire back was exposed. Such soft, hairless skin had he never seen before, but then his eyes traced upwards and he saw the tattoo.

«Do you see?» She asked, enthused, but Aín felt an anger take place where desire before had been in his chest. It exploded, and for a moment he could not contain it.

«Why did you do that?!» He fumed, and grabbing her arm roughly he turned her back to him.

«What do you mean?» Kíliel asked confused, and then made a grimace for the strength with which he held her arm, causing her pain.

It took only a second for him to realise his mistake and he let go of her arm instantly. «I am sorry, Kíliel, please forgive me,» Aín took her hand and kissed it. «I was only surprised, and I wish you hadn't hurt your delicate skin in such a way.» When looking at her face again, he was glad to see that she had only a confused expression. She did not look angry or mistrusting.

Aín exhaled in relief. He had to learn to compose himself if he was to keep her trust, and right now he was ecstatic of her drunkenness. Hopefully she'd have no recollection of this in the morning, and bear him no resentment.

«Oh,» Kíliel muttered and stroke her arm.

«Can I see it again, please?» Aín asked and smiled his kindest smile. She nodded, excited again. Her childish enthusiasm pleased him immensely. How easy it would have been if she behaved like this all the time, then she would already have been his. That last thought gnawed on him for the remaining evening.

«It is beautiful,» he lied, and he could sense her happiness in him thinking so. How enjoyable she was in this state. «Does it hurt?»

Kíliel shrugged. «Not so bad now.»

Looking at her bare back, Aín felt the desire fill him again, and with a will of malice he laid his finger against the red and swollen skin on the edge of the tattoo.

«I've heard tattoos are very painful,» he spoke softly, and moved his finger, more roughly than before, upwards so he directly touched the marks on her back. He heard Kíliel inhale sharply, her body wincing in reflex. Placing his other hand on her arm, he hindered her in moving away. His desire exploded in his body, making him bolder.

«You are hurting me… Aín.» Kíliel muttered, trying to worm herself away from him. His grip was again too tight on her arm, and she made a small squeaking sound.

Aín let go of her then, and he laid both his arms around her from the back. He leaned in against her ear. «Forgive me,» he breathed, his heart beating heavily of excitement in his chest. «I would never hurt you, Kíliel. You know that, right?»

Kíliel was confused. His words were sweet, his smile charming and inviting, and yet his actions were as if made by a completely different mind. Her head hurt. She felt stupid in this moment, hazy and tired from wine, and her thoughts made no sense to her. Her vision swam, and looking up, she saw Thekk standing all of a sudden before them.

«Let go of her, Aín!» Thekk grunted.

«Leave us alone, princeling,» Aín replied back as he straightened and let go of Kíliel, in a controlled, cold manner, «we are having a conversation.»

«It seems a rather one sided conversation, ey?» Thekk took another step towards them, and Aín stood up to face him. Thekk ignored him. He placed a hand on Kíliel's shoulder, feeling how she swayed. «I think she needs to go to bed. Kíliel, are you okay?»

«She is fine!» Aín snapped, taking another step towards Thekk, forcing him backwards. «Why don't you leave your big nose out of our business, and go back to your meaningless, little life. My Prince.» The last he added with a sarcastic tone and made a little bow, fully disrespecting Thekk.

«It seems you have forgotten what happened the last time you spoke that way to me, Aín. Want a reminder, do ya?» Thekk grinned menacingly, tapping his own nose with his finger. It was where he had hit Aín the last time, the day in the training area.

«I will not fight you, Thekk.» Aín scoffed and looked at Thekk with a disgusted expression, like something smelled badly.

«Why will you never fight, Aín? Are you not a dwarf like the rest of us?» Thekk pointed at him with an expression of suspicion.

Aín rolled his eyes and turned away. «I have more important things to do.»

«Like what?» Thekk spat at him. Everyone looked at them now, their class and many of the other guests.

«Like trying to save the Kingdom from orcs,» Aín crossed his arms over his chest and looked down on Thekk. «What do you do, Thekk, other than playing hero?»

«Keep your books and scrolls, Aín, I am leaving tomorrow to actually go fight them.» He hit his own chest with his fist, obviously proud.

This awoke Kíliel from her wine-coma, and she turned to them, a shocked expression on her face. Aín had a similar expression, only with anger and bewilderment.

Thekk laughed mockingly at Aín when he did not answer. «Didn't expect that, did you? I assumed you'd know, that it must be written somewhere in your books.» Thekk weighed him with challenging eyes. «I was obviously mistaken. Seems the only thing you're actually good at, Aín, is talking.»

Then Aín drove his fist through the air and hit Thekk square in the face.

Thekk stumbled backwards, but while Aín was superior in height and age, Thekk was far stronger. He remained standing, only staggered a bit, and made no sound. Then a bark of laughed came from him. Blood ran from his nose, colouring his grin scarlet red as he stepped forth and threw his fist at Aín, hitting him in the jaw. There was a joy in Thekk's eyes. He was finally permitted to show that know-it-all, stuck up, snake of a dwarf what he really thought of him.

Aín was caught unawares and staggered so he had to grab onto a table not to fall.

Kíliel was confused. Her hazy eyes and brain tried to comprehend what was going on, but all she saw were flicker of lights and movements too quick to follow. Or were her eyes too slow? She could not say.

The fight went on for a little while, as far as she could tell. Finally she had a moment of clarity, and she staggered to her feet, walking straight into the two fighting boys.

«STOP IT!» She heard her own voice thunder and echo between the columns of the grand hall. It became dead quiet for a minute, and while she had trouble focusing her eyes on anything around her, she knew they were all staring at her.

«Now,» she began uncertainly, her voice sounding very small, «you may fight any day of the year, but not on my birthday.» Then she turned and walked away. She felt tears gather in her eyes, for a reason she did not know. She only knew she did not want any of them to see it.

She heard Aín behind her, arguing with his grandfather it seemed. And then she felt a hand on her arm. Instinctively she jerked it away, and turning she saw Thekk standing before her, muddled through tears.

«What do you want?» She muttered, her voice breaking at the end. «Just leave me alone.»

«Forgive me, Kíliel, I…» Thekk began, but she instantly felt her anger swell and she cut him off.

«Will everyone stop asking me to forgive them? It's not like my forgiveness can magically heal or grant people magical powers. Honestly…» She spoke in a haze, not really sure about why she said what she said, or why she was angry, or anything. «Besides, you need not my forgiveness for anything. You don't owe me anything, Thekk…,»

«But I do!» He suddenly protested. And then his face turned slightly white, and he lowered his eyes. Kíliel stood confused. Nothing made sense and she was tired of it.

«Why?» She muttered. She looked at him, but his eyes were locked at the ground and he would not reply.

After a moment of silence Kíliel sighed. She put her hand on his cheek, and meeting her eyes, he looked so excruciatingly sad.

«You're bleeding,» was all Kíliel could say, as she dried some blood off his cheek where it ran from a cut on his brow. «I will patch it up. Let's go to my chamber.»

«Mine is closer,» Thekk mumbled and then half-smiled.

—

They walked quietly. As they reached the chamber, Kíliel was further surprised. He did not live with his parents anymore, and this new chamber she hadn't seen before. It was at the edge of South-Town, a little way away from the other living chambers of that region.

«When did you get this?» Kíliel wondered, as he opened the door, a sturdy and grand iron door with marks of silver around the edges.

«I delved it myself,» he said as they stepped into a small chamber. It was parted in two, one for a sitting chamber and one for a sleeping chamber.

Kíliel felt her jaw drop to the floor. «When?» Was all she managed to utter.

«Over the last ten years or so. I always thought it a good place to have, in case I get a wife and need to expand.» Thekk walked along the wall and felt the stone with his hand, almost lovingly.

«So you do wish for a wife,» Kíliel muttered, feeling her heart grow heavy. «Katla will be so pleased to hear that.»

«What does Katla have to do with anything?» Thekk snorted and found a basin of water and a clean cloth. He sat down on a bench in front of the hearth, and Kíliel sat down next to him.

If Kíliel had been sober she would not have told him, but she was still rather drunk, and while her thoughts were clearer, she had little in the sense of control of what she said or did. Kíliel wetted the cloth and lifted it to his face. «She wants to ask you if you wish to marry her.»

Thekk barked a laugh, then hissed as she touched the cloth to his eyebrow, stopping the flow of blood.

«Is it such a shock?» Kíliel felt her heart flutter of the thought.

«Well, it isn't really a surprise,» Thekk chuckled. «She wears her feelings rather visible, if you know what I mean.»

Kíliel did not know what he meant. She didn't claim to understand anything related to feelings or emotions in general, least of all in others.

Thekk was still laughing. When Kíliel didn't answer, he asked: «Did she say anything else?»

«She thinks you handsome,» Kíliel said coldly, like it held no importance in the world, even as it pained her to utter the words. She lifted the cloth and saw that the cut had stopped bleeding, and moved down to his nose, with tried blood colouring his moustache red. She didn't notice that Thekk looked at her intently before he laid a hand on hers and lowered it, so she met his gaze.

Her heart skipped a beat as he smiled, his eyes filled with anticipation. «Do you think so?»

«What?» She breathed, her mind suddenly blank of what they'd talked about. His eyes were so impossibly deep, sweet brown, and holding hers powerfully.

«Do you think me handsome?» It was barely a whisper, for they sat very close now.

Kíliel could not speak. Her mind swam. Images of him, of his body and all the parts she liked about him. She did like him. She even… thought him handsome. It was such a shock for her to admit that to herself once again, like she had done, that time, 9 months before.

Her heart beat so heavy she did not hear her own words as she said: «Yes.»

They sat quietly for a moment, then Kíliel leaned closer to him. She grabbed a hold of his collar. They were only hair-widths apart, and she felt his breath hot on her as he breathed his name. Her mind was heavy with wine, and her eyes swam, and yet seeing him clearly. Finally she closed the distance between them, letting her lips meet his, and for a moment of pure bliss, out of time, they had each other. For that moment Thekk was hers, and nothing else mattered. Then the world became dark, and her mind was surrendered to blackness of wine.

Thekk was surprised to sense her falling asleep a moment after she had kissed him. While he too was drunk, now also on emotions too powerful to comprehend, he was blissful, his heart beating like it was reborn, fresh and fit for anything. He lowered her onto the skins in front of the fire, carefully laying her on her stomach so to care for her new tattoo. He sat down on the ground, his back towards the bench, taking her head in his lap, and let her sleep. The woman he loved - the woman who had just kissed him.

—

 **Nathith u gimil ra abban(daughter of stars and stones)** \- Khuzdul

 **Le channon, Nana!(Thank you, mom!)** \- Sindarin

 **Iellig (Daughter)** \- Sindarin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, let me start this one off by saying that this chapter got slightly out of hand, while at the same time being one of my best planned chapters yet, and also most successful. I did not have the heart to split it, so I hope you can forgive me. I must note that this fanfiction is sort of a practice for when I am to write proper books in the future, and aiming for fantasy, long chapters are a must, so it was a fun experiment.
> 
> I promised myself that I would finish this within a month, at which I failed, but as I published the last one at the end of august, I think this is very close, and I am very happy with myself.
> 
> That being said, yes this is a very emotional chapter. God, the feels I experienced during this writing, you can probably understand as you read it. I really really love having Kíliel grow up. She's still a little while to go to rid herself of a few childish notions, but that is always the way. And while she may seem cold, she is too trusting, especially with a certain psychopath. (God, the love I harbour for Aín should be a warning sign of some sort, but I really can't help it, there is nothing as fun as writing psychopathic characters.)
> 
> And yes, the Kiss! Wait for next chapter to see the aftermath, and I can assure you it is not going to be a bed of roses. Is anything that easy with Kíliel and Thekk? I think not.
> 
> But for now, I really hope you enjoy this read! <3
> 
> AND FINALLY THE TATTOO!!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Iggy <3


	15. Forgetful and Regretful

The world was pain.

Beating, aching headache. Nausea threatening to empty her stomach right then and there. A belly ache, causing her to writhe in pain.

Kíliel groaned, forcing her eyes open. She was blinded by a ray of sunlight hitting her from a light-tunnel somewhere above her. She tried to turn around, but a strange pain radiated through her back, and she remembered her tattoo. The thought brought her a moment of happiness before her mind turned again.

Where was she?

She was lying on her stomach, with her head propped up on something soft, and moving. A hand was lying on her head, and started caressing her as she tried to move. Someone yawned, and Kíliel almost jumped into the air as she realised it was Thekk.

She sat up, forcing his hand away from her, and sat dizzy and confused looking around. They were in a small, almost bare chamber. What had happened last night?

She knew it had been her birthday party, and she remembered glimpses, friendly faces and music, dancing and festivities. With a shock she remembered her conversation with Katla, but that was also the last she remembered. Her mind was black from that moment on, probably due to the wine glasses she had downed in a jealous and angry fit. Her face flushed with embarrassment. The horror of what she might have done and said that she could not remember turned her cold. It was so shameful.

«Good morning,» Thekk muttered cheerily, jerking Kíliel from her frantic thoughts. She turned to him, almost too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

His smile was so sweet and mischievous, it pained Kíliel to imagine what he was thinking about, what she had done to make him look that way. The embarrassments would haunt her forever if he was allowed to speak of it. It was better she never knew.

«What?» Thekk asked, as she had not answered, and looked at him with an expression of mixed nausea and horror.

«Don't say it!» She demanded. «I will not hear of it! Do you understand?»

«Why not?» Thekk asked, looking confused now. «Kíliel it wasn't bad…,»

«I am so embarrassed, Thekk, will you not leave it? I was simply so drunk.» Kíliel exhaled exasperated and fell onto the skins in front of the hearth, hiding her face from his, daring not to look at him. She mumbled into the fur: «Promise me you won't tell anyone.»

Kíliel turned her face and looked at him, waiting for his promise.

«I promise,» Thekk muttered. It was as if he deflated. His whole face faltered, his eyes falling from hers, and his smirking mouth turned to a hard, thin line.

Kíliel didn't have the attention to interpret his face at that moment. She was tired, sick to her stomach of embarrassment and nausea, and her mind anxious to find the lost hours through the waves of headache washing over her. She didn't even have the mind to ask where they were. All she could think of was her reputation, and if she had done anything terrible enough to turn the Council against her somehow. Cursed to them all in Sindarin, or somehow mocked their traditions. She had some ideas from when she was most angry with them, and she couldn't bear the thought of any of them being taken into action.

«How late is it?» Kíliel suddenly jerked up. She had Council-meetings all day, and after yesterday's day off she couldn't afford not to go today, no matter how terrible she felt.

«I do not know,» Thekk shrugged his shoulders, like he couldn't care less about the time, or anything else for that matter. «I do not think the call to work has rung yet.» He sat massaging his knuckles, looking down on them instead of at her. They bore traces of blood and bruises. Had he been in a fight? Kíliel could not think straight. _What happened last night?_

«Then I should leave soon, or I'll be late.» She stood, somewhat unsteady, and realised with annoyance her attire. She was still wearing the tunic from last night. And then another dread entered her mind. She probably had to cross the entire mountain before getting back home to change. What people would think of her…

Kíliel sighed.

«Just go then,» Thekk snapped. If Kíliel didn't know better she'd think he was angry, but for what? He was a constant question-mark to her, and she didn't bother trying to figure him out, not today.

«I'm sorry, Thekk, I…,» She started as she turned towards the door, but he cut her off sharply.

«Just leave if you wish to, Kíliel. Nothing is keeping you here.» He sat staring at the hearth, even though the fire was long dead. Only ashes and stumps of wood remained.

Kíliel was even more confused, but she had no time to argue with him. She left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Thekk remained, sitting quiet for a moment to make sure she was out of hearing range. Then he roared, cried out in anger and frustration, sadness and helplessness. He threw the little he had around the chamber. A stool went at the wall, breaking into a thousand pieces as it hit the rock.

How could she? Why would she do it? Why would she call him handsome, kiss him, the most wonderful kiss in the world, the kiss that had made him believe, and then rip it all from him? Embarrassed? Thekk didn't understand. Why could she not accept their love? Or was it all a lie? He could not believe it. They had been friends for so long, and his feelings could not simply be his own, could they? It was not the way love should work. Love was to be accepted, embraced, and appreciated.

He did not know how long the rage lasted. Eventually he sat breathless, with tears tracing his cheeks, in the middle of the room. Around him was all his things and equipment scattered. The handle of his axe was broken in two. His monocle, for inspecting jewels, were shattered in a million pieces. A necklace he had himself forged lay by his feet, thrown from the broken wooden box he had kept it in. Finally his room reflected his chaotic and broken heart.

He hated her!

Not entirely, for the other part of him loved her, with a burning, demanding desire, but he hated her for doing that to him. To let him believe like that, and then… Nothing. Like nothing had happened between them. Like it was all back to normal. Frustratingly, confusingly normal.

But he KNEW. He knew that she thought him handsome, that she had liked watching him naked. It had been obvious from her rather shameless gawk. And they had been friends for decades. What more did she need?

Thekk exhaled into his hand, rubbing his face as he leaned his head back against the bench. He hit it into the wood a couple times, trying to knock the memory away. But it was stuck. Her flushed and horrified expression as she had told him to forget. Forget? He would never forget it, the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her breath, and her teasing tongue. He wanted nothing more than to feel it all again. His body tensed, blood pumping faster as he thought of it. His masculine desire grew explosively and he roared another time.

He looked down on the necklace again. He had almost forgotten about the trinket, and took it in his left hand. As he looked down on it, his heart sunk in his chest. It was a necklace with a little jewel on it. He had forged it as a birthday present to Kíliel, but then had forgotten to give it to her after everything. After the kiss…

Thekk sighed again, and closed his hand, intending to crush the necklace to dust between his strong fingers, but stopped himself. He looked down on it again, felt another tear leave his eye as he decided. It was for her, even if she loved him or not. He could not destroy it, not before she had rejected it and him completely.

Suddenly he laughed, a dark, painful laughter. It had not hit him before how ironic this whole situation was. Kíliel, the half dwarven, half elven princess that none trusted for her uncertain heritage. At this very moment she seemed more dwarf, cold, rational and practical than he had ever felt. Of the two he was the one controlled by emotions, while Kíliel never did anything if it did not reward her place as heir. It was cruelly ironic. She would never do anything to jeopardise the throne of Erebor. She would be the perfect ruler, like her grandfather before her. She would do Thorin proud.

Maybe that was why she had rejected him in the first place. He had been so stupid not to realise it before. Of course she was still afraid of him trying to take her throne. But surely she must know that it would never happen? He knew the answer instantly; no, she did not know. She did not trust him, even after all they had been through, after all these years.

Somehow that was the harder blow, not her rejection of his love, but her rejection of his trust. There was nothing more he could do.

He rubbed his face again, looking around the chamber. It was a mess. All his things, broken and mangled, and while he did not care much at the moment, he would be angry with himself for it later. But it felt right to see the mess, like finally he understood himself. And he was finally content of the choice he had taken to leave Erebor.

Mahal knew, he needed some time away from these halls, and now was the perfect time, it seemed.

—

After a thorough and cleansing vomit, a quick wash in the basin, and a change of clothes, Kíliel was once again sitting in the Council-chamber, surrounded by the old men, and Aín, feeling generally terrible and terrified of exactly what had happened last night. But it seemed nothing bad had occurred, not between her and the Council at least. Aín kept sending her strange gazes, which then turned sweet and charming each time she met his eyes.

Ever since waking up she had been racking her brain to find the lost hours, and she was certain Aín knew something as well, but she dared not ask in the company of the Council-members. Her reputation was all she had with these old crows, and the tattoo as well as her speech last night had actually gained her some respect, it seemed.

Now she sat listening to the dwarves discuss and talk of the reports and news from all the dwarven Kingdom of Middle Earth. Kíliel then felt a hand on her throat, like something was wrong. Something was missing. But what?

She grew anxious and brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling the pointy edge of it. Then it hit her hard, like she got hit in the stomach by a mountain ram. What about the elves? The face of Legolas appeared for her inner eye, and she felt breathless for a moment, as she always did.

Altar cleared his throat after a while of hearing the reports from the Kingdom.

«If that is all, I think we should discuss the… Yes, Princess?» He stopped and patiently looked at her, as she had risen her hand to say something, quite astonished herself for this initiative. Usually she would be quiet and only partake if she was directly asked for it. But she found herself with a thought, and so she could not let it go without asking.

«What about the elves?» Kíliel looked at Altar, who sat with a nonchalant expression, not really understanding the importance of her question.

«What about the elves?» He returned her question with an overbearing expression, and earned himself a low chuckle from around the table.

«What news are there from the elves?» She asked more urgently. Aín shot her a sharp glance, which then turned soft as strangely as before, and several other of the dwarves cleared their throats awkwardly.

«What news should there be of the elves?» Northar, the trading master, asked her with derision.

«I simply mean,» she started, trying to sound sure of herself, feeling the sweat trickle down her forehead of nervousness, «if there is war brewing, should we not also communicate with our neighbours? We may be in a position to help each other, and…»

«When has the elves ever agreed to help us?» Dwalin protested loudly, his heavy voice drowning out any mumble in the room. «They care for nothing but their own skin.»

«Is not my mother an elf?» Kíliel was standing now, looking straight at Dwalin, not afraid anymore. «Did not Thorin give his trust and love to both her and her kinsman, Legolas, prince of the woodland realm Mirkwood? Am not I half elf? And yet you accepted me as your heir by his say.» Her voice rang loud and sharp in the chamber. It was like the mention of Legolas' name brought her new energy and strength, ready to oppose anyone who would silence her.

«She speaks the truth,» Fíli's voice suddenly tolled through the air. His voice was levelled and mighty, as only a King's voice could sound. «Speak, niece, share your thoughts in this Council that one day will be yours.»

Kíliel smiled as Fíli looked around, giving each member a hard gaze, reminding them of her importance in this room, or any room in Erebor. It was something most of them tended, or preferred, to forget.

«I believe it is foolish of us not to prove our honour to Mirkwood, or any other of the elvish realms. Is not the elves also enemies of the orcs? Do they not hate them as we do?» She gazed around, holding each pair of eyes for a moment to keep their attention. «If this is a fore-game of war, then it is a war we cannot win alone. We need allies, and all our kin are far away, surrounded and frequently terrorised by orc already. Soon the scum will be at our door-step, as they were 50 years ago.»

Mentioning the Battle of Five Armies was always a sure way to win an argument with these dwarves, she knew that.

«50 years ago we united with the elves, then thought to be our enemies, and we won with their help. We would not be here today, if not for the trust offered on that day, regardless of old hatred. _Thorin_ would have seen the wisdom in doing so again, to build bridges where we can, before it is too late.»

«What then, honoured Princess, would you have us do?» Altar gave her a testing look, smirking slightly. «Invite the elves into our Kingdom, so they can steal all we work for?»

«Yes,» Kíliel exclaimed excitedly. «Obviously not for them to steal from us,» she added a little embarrassed as many of the dwarves exclaimed in shock. «But for us to speak with them, show them that our young Kingdom, and King,» she nodded to Fíli, who smirked approvingly behind his beard, «wish to remain strong, keep our promises and make new alliances where it can be found. I do not see why the elves would not wish the same.»

«Because they are a mistrusting, pointy eared… eh, secluded people who does not wish to share their secrets with any dwarf.» Gloar, the master of forging and mining, huffed. He eyed Kíliel with a increasing blush in his already crimson cheeks for what he had been on the verge of insinuate in front of their Princess Heir, who was 'pointy-eared', at least by dwarven standard.

Fíli cleared his throat, and rose from his seat. While he was a rather calm and quiet ruler, letting people speak their minds before he spoke his, he was not to be crossed. Gloar sat practically shaking from nervousness.

«The Princess speaks wisely in tactic towards saving our Kingdom, one that puts no dwarven life at risk. I would wish any of you would show such initiative more often. Therefore I decree that action shall be taken. Invitations to a peace treaty will be sent to Lothlorien, Imladris, and Mirkwood. It is time for us to open negotiations with the elves.»

Fíli paused, his eyes moving across all the Council-members, searching for objections. None spoke against their King, and when he lastly looked to Kíliel, he winked and smiled, and sat back down.

«It is about time we make peace with the elves. After all we do have one of their daughters as the fore-most healer among us, and her daughter again is next in line for our throne. I do not think our ancient traditions of hating the elves apply any longer.» Fíli laughed heartily, and as the laughter grew around the table, it had a cold edge to it. «Don't you agree, honoured Masters?»

A murmur rose around the table, dwarves nodding begrudgingly.

«Altar, I trust you to arrange for these invitations.» Fíli eyed the Council-leader with a raised brow.

Altar was a moment bewildered, an unusual expression to see on him. «But my Lord, I have already so many responsibilities,» he muttered and looked through the heavy pages of his book.

«I will do it,» Kíliel spoke aloud and stood up again. «I will write the invitations and make sure they are delivered as soon as possible.»

Her blood rushed as she felt all their gazes on her, eyeing her with awe. She realised that she enjoyed this, to stand up for her ideas in front of these dwarves who all looked down on her for her heritage.

Fíli laughed heartily again, pride warming his face. «Then it is decided.»

Kíliel felt her heart glow of anticipation. Her blood pumped freshly in her veins, and for the first time in a long while, she started to hope for Legolas' return.

«If we then are finished with the subject,» Altar began with a cold edge to his voice, «I suggest we continue on with the topic we have yet to discuss. Are the soldiers ready to leave in the morning?» He looked to Levi, the training master, who nodded solemnly.

«It is as we agreed; a small party of 100. They'll leave for the blue mountains, and help them reclaim Moria.»

Then Aín's clear voice sounded: «Is it correct that Prince Thekk will be joining this troop?»

The moment he said it, a flash of pain crossed Kíliel's vision, blinding her for a moment, and she groaned quietly. The flash contain also images, images of last night, moments she had forgotten.

The fight!

Her eyes flashed to Aín's hands, which were bruised, as Thekk's. She remembered what they had fought about. The words they had exchanged.

Thekk was leaving! He had taunted Aín, bragged about leaving and fighting the orcs. It could not be true?

Then another flash. Kíliel grasped her head, fearing it would explode from the sudden pain. With shock she remembered Thekk's chamber, her cleaning his forehead, leaning closer to him… And…

Her gasp in complete and utter shock was so loud all the dwarves turned to her, but she did not care.

They had kissed, for a moment, she remembered now. The softness of his lips, his firm hand on her neck.

Then she remembered her words to Thekk that morning. How stupid she was! Of course he was angry at her, and he had all right. She had told him to forget it, meaning to him that she wanted him to forget about their kiss. She did not want him to forget, not when she finally remembered. And he could not leave her now!

In the back of her mind she heard the conversations going on around the table, and she had registered that it was not true, he would not leave with the troop. Then Kíliel felt her heart settle. She yet had time to clear everything with him.

«No, Prince Thekk will not leave tomorrow,» Altar spoke calmly, eyeing Kíliel from the corner of his eye, and then proceeded to browse through his book, «but he will leave this afternoon.»

Kíliel felt her throat close up. She couldn't breathe. Thekk mustn't leave before she had the chance of talking to him again. He could not leave thinking that she was embarrassed for their kiss. That was the only thing she knew for certain.

«Why?» She croaked, more against her will than with it, and looked to Altar with desperate, wide eyes. Her fingertips grasped the end of the table so hard her nails cracked.

Altar started at her strange behaviour, and took another moment before he answered: «Well, he is going with his father to Ered Luin to meet with the army from the Blue Mountains, and bring news to their kin. Then they will join up with our forces before they reach Moria.»

«No!» Kíliel was suddenly standing, her thoughts wild and afraid.

«Princess, we are not finished!» Altar called after her when she turned and ran for the door.

«For once, honoured Council Leader, I do not care!» She called back and threw open the doors as she ran.

«The insolence of the young,» Altar exclaimed lowly, but Fíli simply chuckled, remembering so well his own enthusiasm and restlessness at that age. He would ask her later why she was in a hurry, but he had an idea as he had seen her and Thekk disappear from the party last night.

Fíli caressed his beard, like Thorin had used to do, as he considered the irony of fate. Had the two truly fallen in love? Fíli thought how much that would please the Council, before he turned his attention back to the old dwarves and returned to the matters at hand.

«Continue, honoured Council Leader,» Fíli gestured to Altar, only with a slight irony in his voice as he used the same title as Kíliel had a moment before, «I do not think she will return this afternoon.»

—

Kíliel ran so quickly her breath came hard and her legs fell numb, but it didn't matter. She _had_ to reach the Main Hall before Thekk's party departed. It was already late afternoon, many hours had gone since the Call to Lunch, and her fear grew ever darker as she ran. She could not handle the thought of Thekk leaving before she got to explain herself. Then he would surely end up hating her for the rest of his life.

She ran as quickly as her short legs could carry her. Through the Mountain, over bridges, and through corridors, and everywhere people would bow to her as she passed. She had no thought for them, only Thekk mattered.

As she ran over the grand, open floor of the Throne room, she didn't even turn to gaze at the throne, which she always did, imagining how it must be to sit upon it. Now she only ran, her eyes looking straight ahead, to the next corridor, the one connecting the Throne Hall and the Main hall. She was almost there.

Kíliel stopped as she finally entered the Main hall. Her breath heaved in her chest, the taste of blood on her tongue. Her gaze scanned every person there to find Thekk. It was hard, because the hall was filled with ponies and dwarves, some leaving, some saying goodbye, and some gathering equipment, weapon, and armour. It was apparently no little company joining Thekk and Dárin to Ered Luin, and the trip was a long and perilous one, so many provisions were needed.

Her ears finally picked the sound of Thekk's laughter from the noise of people and animals. She turned towards the sound, and froze in shock at the sight that met her.

Thekk stood with Katla. The two were embracing. Kíliel could not see who were the initiator, but it hurt nonetheless. Along with her exhausted run, Kíliel couldn't breathe properly for a long moment, finally she coughed and tears formed in her eyes.

At that Thekk locked eyes with her across the crowded hall, and he let go of Katla with a suddenly straight face Kíliel could not interpret. The girl turned too and smiled, making way for Kíliel to approach, which she did. Her feet moved without permission and her brain panicked as she came closer and closer to Thekk.

When finally she stood in front of him, she felt small, even with a few inches taller than him. She held the ground firmly with her eyes. In no way could she meet his gaze at that moment without bursting into tears. That was not an option surrounded by so many dwarves who respected her.

«Why did you not tell me?» She barely muttered, unsure if he had even heard her.

He had, for he answered solemnly: «I did not think it would matter to you.»

Kíliel's eyes jerked up by the cold words. How could he think that?

«Is that not what friends do?» She demanded, almost angry now. «Tell their friends when they will leave, never to return?»

«I will return, that is not…,» Thekk's eyes turned regretful then. «I misspoke, Kíliel. That was not my meaning.» He stumbled with his words. Kíliel blinked away tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, waiting for an explanation to any of it. He muttered something, but Kíliel didn't hear, so he cleared his throat.

«I thought perhaps you knew, and did not speak of it because…,» he stopped again, his eyes fell down to look at his hands.

«So you would just leave to be killed by orcs, without even saying 'good-bye'?» She breathed disbelieving. «Do you care so little for me?»

«What do you mean, Kíliel? It is you who do not care for me.» Coldly he began fastening the leather on his horse, turning his back to her, pretending that his words did not effect him.

« _Menu L_ _elkhar_ , Thekk, dashat u Dárin!» Kíliel exclaimed then, not too loud, luckily.

«Yes, that is what I am. Thekk, the foolish dwarf, who never understands anything,» he grinned bitterly as he spoke, his voice edgy with sarcasm, still turned halfway away from her.

«Yes, you are, for you do not understand how wrong you are,» Kíliel urged as she took another step closer to him. She looked quickly behind, but it turned out Katla had left them, so she turned back to Thekk. He was facing her now, his expression a confused mock.

«Thekk, the kiss…,» she started, putting her hand on his arm, but he cut her off, jerking back from her touch.

«You needn't worry, I'll never speak of it,» Thekk muttered, then looked at her with sad eyes, «I'll even try to forget it, if that is what you wish.»

«That is NOT what I wish,» she cried, and a tear released from her eye. Why would he not just let her speak? «I do not want you to forget it, Thekk.»

«I understand,» he muttered defeatedly, as if he hadn't heard her. «I understand that you are the Heir, and you must know that I have never wished to pressure you.» He exhaled, and looked at her, his smile so sad it broke her heart. «You know, Kíliel, I only ever wished to be your friend.»

«We are friends,» Kíliel breathed.

«But then you went and kissed me, and now…,» Thekk cleared his throat and brushed his hair backwards, his eyes anywhere but at her. «I cannot be your friend, Kíliel. Not when I have these feelings for you, which I know you will never reciprocate.»

«I… I did not know… I did not think…» she muttered, exhausted, sick and tired, only wanting to tell him. She hid her face in her hands. «Thekk, don't make it so hard for me.»

«I am not making it hard. I am making it very easy. I am leaving so you may be the heir without worrying for my feelings. I'll do my duty to the Kingdom, and make sure you are safe as long as there are life in my chest.»

«That is not what I want!» She cried, and grabbed him by his collar, trying to shake the truth into him.

«Then what?» His eyes turned hard, his lips tightened and he spoke through clenched teeth. «What do you want, Kíliel? You must tell me, because I do not know.» His eyes held her gaze, and she felt tears form in the corner of her eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest, no longer of the running. She let go of him.

«I do not know,» Kíliel lowered her eyes and muttered, feeling a tear trace down her cheek.

«Then you must let me go, because I cannot wait any longer for you to make up your mind.» Thekk's voice was so deep in his chest that she could feel the rumble of it in the air between them.

They stared at each other for a long moment, it almost felt like eternity. His eyes were hard, but there was a sadness in them, a longing Kíliel felt in her own chest. It was a grasping, suffocating sort of longing, but she could not put words to it.

«But before I go,» Thekk started, his voice uncertain, almost shaking, «Here. I want you to take this and wear it, or do not, and I will know for certain you do not care for me.»

He held up a necklace and motioned to give it to her.

Kíliel felt tears press on in her eyes, and she did not raise her hand to take it. It was so beautiful, a silver and diamond necklace. It was unlike any jewellery she had, and she treasured it more.

Thekk thought it meant she did not want it, and he started to lower his hand with a defeated expression, then she spoke. «Will you fasten it around my neck?» She could barely see him for the tears clouding her vision.

He smiled faintly then, and she turned so he could place it around her neck and close it at the back. When she turned back to him, his eyes were glazed as well, and she wanted to tell him, tell him everything, but she could not say a word.

Thekk finally shook his head lightly, and moved to mount his horse.

Kíliel did not think, only acted, and before he got his foot into the stirrup, she grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him towards her again. The strength of her grip surprised them both, and he stumbled, and they ended up pressed against each other not to lose balance. Kíliel had a secure grasp of both his arms, her knuckles whitening, so reluctant was she to let him go. She just wanted to be near him one last time.

His hands were on her waist by the surprise of the impact. They looked into each others eyes, their faces but inches apart. Even with layers of clothes between them, Kíliel felt the pulsating muscles of his arms move underneath her hands, and the warmth of him as his crotch was pressed against hers in a rather unseemly way. And his breath, warm and sweet on her skin gave her goosebumps all along her spine.

They were well surrounded by guards and dwarves of trade, and all eyes were glued to the young, and their unusual closeness, the manner of which most dwarves cared nothing about. But they did not care who saw them. They were frozen in time, where the noise of the world was nothing but a whisper. Kíliel saw only him, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. He moved one of his hands to her face, drying a tear from her cheek. Thekk smiled, a melancholy smile.

Finally he moved closer to her, his lips finding hers in a soft kiss. Kíliel had never experienced such ecstasy, and while she returned the kiss warily, she realised she pressed herself closer to him. Their lips softly, and their tongues playfully exploring this new game. Kíliel felt blood rush to her head and throughout her entire body. She had never felt so alive, never felt so right.

Finally Thekk laughed against her lips, and held her out from him. She struggled to get back to his lips, but he was determined. He kissed her forehead softly, then caressed her cheek before he let go of her.

«I do care for you, Thekk,» Kíliel breathed, a new tear leaving her eye, while her hands found his face.

«But is it enough?» He removed her hands from his cheeks. Turning, he mounted the pony, and looked down on her with a soft smile, though his eyes were sad.

Kíliel wept openly now. «Will you still leave me, Thekk? Do you still doubt that I care for you?»

«I do not doubt your feelings for me, Kíliel, but I know that you will not be controlled by them, as I am of mine. Thus I must leave you, so you may know in your heart if you truly want me, and so I may know if I can live without you, as I fear I must in the end.»

«You're wrong!» She called to him, as his horse stomped backwards away from her, ready to follow the rest of the party as they departed the Hall. «I need you! I need you here!»

«You have never needed me, Kíliel, but if your feelings are true, I hope that I return, so you may tell me from your heart, and not by the pressure of time or circumstance.» His expression was smug, and at that moment she hated him.

«You are a fool, Thekk, son of Dárin, but I will prove it, if not the orcs kill you first!» She called after him, tears streaming down her face, though her smile wide.

«I may be foolish, but not so foolish as to be slain by a petty orc!» He laughed so his voice rang through the Hall, then he waved his hand once and spurred the Pony hence. He galloped after the others, and were gone.

Kíliel ran, her feet sore from the last run, up the steps to the Vanguard, pushed passed the guards there, and threw herself to the first railing of stone at the watch-post, so that she may see the party one last time before it disappeared behind the hills of Dale.

She saw the follow, and Thekk as he galloped to reach them. Tears yet flowed down her cheeks, but she did not sob, for in her heart was a strong determination. She was still Heir, and while her feelings were confusing, she would not be controlled by her fear for them anymore. She must learn to embrace them, and not refuse them. And then she had to prove her love to Thekk.

Finally she thought she saw Thekk turn to look at her one last time before he disappeared from sight, and she felt in her heart a fear stronger than any she had ever felt, both for his life and for her love for him. She touched the necklace as she watched him. Her love for him was the most important thing she had, and she would not lose it.

—

 ** _Menu L_ _elkhar_ , **T **hekk, dashat u Dárin - You supreme fool,** **Thekk, son of Dárin (Khuzdul)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I am not little proud of having finished this chapter after less than 3 weeks. It was mainly due to this chapter being the best one yet. I really love angsty, teenager Kíliel. And I hope you enjoy all the feels, I sure as hell did. And it was SUCH a time for their first oficial kiss, even tho they kinda decided this for themselves. Their real first kiss was scheduled many years to come, but thats how it is when characters write themselves more than you write them.
> 
> I also really hope that you arent too dissapointed that they dont have their happily ever after yet, tho I am pretty sure you wont dislike the next few chapters to come. Try to keep in mind that this fic is about Kíliel growing up to be the Queen she needs to be, and there are still quite a bit of way to go for her to get there. So I hope you still enjoy the fic, and please stay with me, I promise you wont regret it! ;)
> 
> So I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know what you think! :D
> 
> Cheers,  
> Iggy :heart:


	16. The Choice of the Heart

It was silent in Erebor without Thekk. Empty.

Kíliel cared less for the sounds of the Mountains, knowing that he was not down there working on his forging. And it infuriated her that nothing had seemingly changed. The people carried on like nothing was different, the bellows pumped, and the hammers struck so she could feel the vibrations through the floor as usual. Yet the Mountain was emptier for his absence. No one cared that Thekk was out there risking his life every day. Only she noticed that he was not there, standing by her side, making fun of what she said or did.

Her longing was unbearable.

Kíliel was angry at herself for how oblivious she had been to his importance to her and her life in Erebor. He had left, and she was stuck in the Kingdom that would one day be hers to command. And while she understood his reasoning, she resented him for leaving.

This day was like all days since he had left. She felt needless, and her work was slow.

Kíliel sat alone at her desk, formerly Thorin's desk, in her chamber. The chamber was cold, the embers glowing in the hearth of a dying fire. It was winter, mid-December, and even with the roaring fires of the forges in the heart of the Mountain, the walls were always cold. She tucked the fur cape closer against her neck and sighed so smoke came from her mouth. She thought of Thekk, and how he must be freezing out in the cold, or perhaps he had arrived at Ered Luin. She had heard no news, and it put her on edge.

A stack of papers laid in front of her on the table, the inkstand next to them, and a feather pen in her hand. No words. Her thoughts were blank. She only thought of him. A mere month had passed since Thekk had left, and Kíliel longed for him as she had never thought she would.

Now she was trying to write the invitations to the elves that she promised she would have finished as soon as possible. She cursed herself for having taken it upon herself to write them. It was her first official task as the heir, and she had to do it perfectly. For a month she had tried every day to write and failed, evident by the crumbled up papers strewn around her on the floor.

Kíliel forced herself to dip the pen into the inkstand, filled the tip, and carefully moved it to the top of the paper in front of her. She carefully tapped the pen to the paper, seeing the ink flow, making neat letters as she wrote. She lifted the pen and stared at the paper.

«'Legolas',» she breathed, reading the name she had written. He was all she could think of, him and Thekk. Her thoughts constantly found him ever since Thekk's departure. It seemed she had anxiety about bringing Legolas to Erebor, which confused her immensely, for she had all her life dreamed of nothing else. Once she had thought that she loved Legolas, but after her kiss with Thekk she did not know anymore. Could she love Legolas and Thekk both, in two entirely different ways? Was it possible? It was a dilemma without end.

Each time she thought of Legolas now, her dreamlike image of him, she instantly thought of Thekk, his realness to her, and her promise. She refused to give up her love for Thekk, she would prove that to him once he returned. But what then if Legolas was one day to come to Erebor? She feared what she would do, perhaps forget about Thekk completely, if she once again stood in Legolas' presence. She could not allow that to happen. But then, why not? Her feelings for Legolas felt no less real than her feelings for Thekk, and yet it was completely different.

She could not think straight, and she exhaled exasperatedly as a drop of ink fell from the tip of the pen where she had held it still for a long moment, her mind frantically trying to find a solution. She dropped the pen into the inkstand and leaned back in the big armchair.

The solution was easy enough; there was none. And so she did not want to write the letters. She did not want Legolas to come if it meant that she would break her promise to Thekk and herself.

Kíliel groaned and leaned forward, hitting her head against the paper. She sobbed theatrically a few times, before rising again and rubbing her face with her hands.

«It is hopeless!» She exclaimed and ripped the paper into a thousand pieces, scattering them behind her.

At that moment there sounded a knock on her door and she inhaled sharply, sitting up straight in fear that someone might have heard. She called uncertainly: «Come in,» and the door opened to reveal her uncle Fíli, standing there in all his Kingly might. He was dressed in a thick coat, which scraped along the floor as he walked. It was lined with fur, and the hood was made entirely of fur, with the face of a grand wolf at the end, so that when he wore it, the head of the wolf would fall in front of his face like the visor of a helmet. Now it hung low and flaccid on his back.

Kíliel scrambled to get to her feet and greet him as was custom, then lowered her face. She could not bear to look at him, when he smiled so proudly of her with his warm eyes, looking like the perfect King that he was. She sat back down.

«What is the matter, lass?» Fíli crossed the floor and stopped beside her. When she did not answer, he took her face in his hands and made her look at him.

«I am trying to write the invitations, but…» She stopped, and looked up into his kind face.

«I can see that,» he chuckled and rubbed his thumb against her forehead where she had gotten an ink stain from the paper. «And?»

«I cannot do it,» she muttered, tears gathering in the corner of her eye.

«And why not?» Fíli mused as he let go of her and took a stool to sit down in front of her on the other side of the desk.

«I just can't… I'll never be able to write them perfectly.»

«Who said they need to be perfect?» Fíli chuckled and tilted his head. «I think you're putting too much thought into it, lass. You are the Princess Heir, and when you stop trying to think, you'll know what to write. I am sure of that.»

«How do you know?» Kíliel whined and threw out her arms. «I am a hopeless Heir. If I can't even do this, then what kind of Queen will I be?»

«I know this because you are not like me, Kíliel,» Fíli began, his voice calm but serious, «I have known for a long time that you are a far more dedicated Heir than I was, and already more prepared for the task of ruling this Kingdom.»

Kíliel furrowed her brows in confusion. «What do you mean, uncle?»

«I mean that unlike me, you have always known that you are one day to become the Queen, and every decision you make is always focused on that goal.»

«That isn't true,» Kíliel shook her head and looked down. Fíli's eyes were intense, and she saw the truth in them, a truth she was not ready to face yet. A tear once again gathered in her eye, but she would not let it fall. «I do many stupid things all the time. And the rest of the time I do not even know what to do.»

«You think too much again,» Fíli chuckled and laid his hand on hers from across the table. «I only mean you needn't worry so much, and do not try to be perfect all the time. You don't have to be perfect to be Queen, Kíliel, you are the perfect Queen already.»

Kíliel squeezed his hand, feeling a tear leave her eye.

«And do not worry about the invitations so much either. There is no rush, so just do it when you know what to write. It will be better.» Fíli winked at her, and she giggled.

«Thank you, uncle,» she smirked and exhaled heavily as she leaned back in her chair.

There was a moment of silence between them, and as always it was a comfortable silence. Fíli was one of those people Kíliel was perfectly comfortable being silent with. They simply enjoyed each other's company and could spend hours sitting together silently, either reading or working on separate projects.

Finally, Fíli spoke again, his expression amused. «However, I am wondering if it is not just perfectionism that is keeping you from writing.»

Kíliel jerked up and met his gaze. Shock coloured her face white as she stuttered: «I do not know what you mean.»

«You are many things, lass, but a good liar is not one of them.» Fíli raised his brow and peered at her. «It is Thekk, is it not?»

Kíliel stared at the blank paper in front of her, refusing to give away her emotions.

Fíli smacked his tongue and chuckled. «You must know that the rumour has already spread throughout the Mountain. Will you not speak to me about it?»

«No,» Kíliel muttered coldly. She did not want to discuss it with anyone, not before she had made up her mind about how she felt about it. She would not give them the satisfaction in thinking that it was their doing that had made her fall for Thekk. She had yet to forgive her family for their lies.

«Why not?» Fíli's expression turned wondering, almost worried. «I may be able to help you with your troubles.»

«How?» Kíliel muttered through gritted teeth, before she looked up, and sternly met the gaze of her uncle. «What do you know about love?»

Fíli lowered his gaze and caressed his beard, exhaling before he met her gaze again. His eyes were filled with sadness, and Kíliel instantly regretted her words. She was obviously mistaken. The sorrow she saw in her uncle's eyes were like the kind she had seen in Thekk's eyes when he thought she did not care for him. It was a longing, hopeless look, and her heart beat harder for the things she now knew that Fíli had never spoken of. He had once been in love.

«I know of love and loss, Kíliel, and if my experience in any way may help you so you may not experience what I did, then I will gladly talk of it with you.»

«Forgive me, uncle,» Kíliel breathed. She walked around the table and sat down in front of him on the bench that stood in front of the fire. «I did not know. Please, will you tell me?» She grasped his hand and he met her eyes with a sad smile.

«It is not your fault you did not know, none but your father and grandfather knew, and yet I never even spoke to them about it. The pain was too great.» Fíli paused. «Will you not breathe fire into the hearth? It is too chilly in here.» He looked to her, and she jumped to her feet to do as he asked.

When the fire was eating away on new logs and Kíliel sat down beside her uncle again, Fíli cleared his throat and started speaking.

«You must understand that this was a long time ago. I was naught but a young dwarfling at the time, younger than you even.» His eyes shone in the light from the fire, glazed with memories of a time long since past. «Me and Kíli had just started traveling with Thorin, working as mercenaries, helping tradesmen deliver their cargo between the Dwarven realms. I don't remember staying anywhere for longer than a few weeks at the time. It was a great time for us, getting away from our mother and seeing the world. We only ever wanted to travel with Thorin, Kíli and me, and finally we were allowed.» Fíli chuckled of the memories.

Kíliel felt honoured to be allowed to share this with her uncle. Most stories she had of her father and uncle's childhood were stories Kíli and Thorin had told her, and they were only ever cheerful and carefree, adventurous and exciting. This was something else entirely, something she could possibly relate to, and bring her even closer to her uncle.

«I remember it so clearly, seeing her the first time,» Fíli sighed, his eyes long gone in the dancing flames, «She was the first lass I'd met that were not much older than me, and I was instantly captured by her sweet, kind little face, by the strength and yet frailty of her body, and her voice, so melodious and clear as if spoken by a young mountain goat. Her hair was fair like my own, and when our eyes met across the greeting hall of Orocarni, my fate was set, and I think she knew it because she walked straight up to me and introduced herself. She was Hera, grand-daughter of the King. I was so dumb, I couldn't speak a word. I only stared at her. And when Thorin called for me, I stumbled in my own legs and went sprawling right in front of her. I can still remember the ringing of her laughter, like the sound of silver bells.»

Fíli chuckled, and rubbed his brows, still embarrassed for the memory.

Kíliel was like enchanted by his story. She could see it all so clearly in her mind, and giggled at the image of her kingly uncle lying flat on the ground in front of a princess, his face probably turned bright red like the mountain flower of autumn.

While the fire steadily ate its way across the logs, Fíli continued telling of Hera, and how they got acquainted over the two weeks he spent in Orocarni. This was incidentally also the time he managed to set fire to Altar's beard, who resided in Orocarni with his son, long before Aín was even born. Fíli cringed when he thought of Altar's rage and his own fear of the dwarf.

«I think he only forgave me when I finally became King,» Fíli barked a laugh, «And it pleases me immensely to push him on it, even now, almost a hundred years after the incident.»

Kíliel laughed aloud, for she could imagine how joyous it must be to finally be able to talk back to Altar, without him seeming so smug and self-righteous.

«Why do you not make a new Council? You can now that you are King,» Kíliel wondered, her mind turned to this idea that kept enticing her whenever she had a moment to think. She would spend hours considering who to bring into her new Council. And while there were not many she trusted of the dwarves of her class, she desperately wanted younger dwarves to make up her Council, dwarves who were not set in their ancient ways, who would be open to create a new and better Erebor under her command.

Fíli exhaled as he laid a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. «Erebor is still a young Kingdom, Kíliel, and we have yet a long way to go to rebuild the infrastructure and the spirit of the people.»

«But you said yourself that our old traditions do not count any longer,» Kíliel huffed and looked at Fíli with a confused mock.

«Traditions and 'old ways' are a safer way to go, rather than start all fresh with no direction or plans. I do try to adapt the traditions to our new Kingdom, but to change something we first need to have something whole that can be changed. It is not so easy to change something that is not established to begin with.» He looked at Kíliel with a smirk. «And I have no doubt that when you are Queen you can and will change our Kingdom to the better. But right now it is my job to finish what Thorin started.»

He finished with that and looked into the fire again. It was now almost burned down. Kíliel stood up and put another log on the hungry flames. They devoured it instantly and grew great again.

«I hope so too,» Kíliel muttered worriedly. She did not like to hear him say that because it meant that he would be dead, and she could not bear to even imagine the world without him. She shook her head of her worries and turned to him again with a hopeful expression: «Will you not continue your story?»

Fíli chuckled and nodded. «Where was I? Yes, well, after Altar was finished thrashing me, I ran away and hid in one of the deepest gem-caves of the Mountain. I was mortified and would not show my face in public again. Then Hera found me, and she comforted me. It was there, after only two weeks of knowing each other that we kissed for the first time.» Fíli sighed of the memory and touched his lips as if in trance.

This last sentence shook Kíliel to the core.

They kissed after only having known each other for two weeks? It could not be right. «But… how… how did you know? How did you know that you wanted to kiss her, or that she wanted to kiss you?»

«I just knew,» Fíli chuckled, his gaze still deep in the flames.

Kíliel sat frozen for a moment. She did not understand. Was she the only one who never knew her own feelings? Was there something wrong with her to be so indecisive?

«You are right, I am not like you. I do not understand feelings.» She cupped and hid her face in her hands. «It took me twenty years to kiss Thekk, and only because I did not want him to leave,» she breathed into her hands. «I am so stupid.»

Fíli chuckled and laid his arm around her shoulder. She was as tall as him when they sat like that, and it actually surprised her how small he suddenly seemed to her.

«You are not stupid, Kíliel,» Fíli began. «This is what I mean. You will be a perfect Queen exactly because you are not controlled by your emotions. From what I can tell, every decision you make are based on a well thought-out desire to one day become Queen.»

Kíliel lowered her hands and looked at Fíli, a tear tracing down her cheek. He smiled encouraging, and it lit a tiny light of hope in her chest. As he said it she realised it was true. And then she was defeated again.

She looked at Fíli with a deeply worried expression. «But does that mean I will never allow myself to love, or be loved? I am so afraid of being weak, or to relinquish my heirship to the person I decide to love. Can I not have it both ways?»

Fíli was quiet for a moment, then he exhaled, and lowered his gaze. «I am sorry, Kíliel, for I feel responsible for giving you these fears. I wish we had never made you believe that Thekk was to marry you and be King. It was a dirty scheme, and I resent the Council for it. You should not fear your feelings, and no matter what you decide you are our heir, Kíliel. Ignore the Council. This is between you and Thekk.»

Kíliel turned from Fíli, her gaze finding the flames. Her and Thekk. And Legolas. Her thoughts were a big mess of emotions, and she could not find heads or tails to any of her worries. She exhaled and embraced herself, hugging herself as if she was cold, even with the warmth of the hearth on her face. A chill moved down her spine. What would she choose?

She shook herself and turned back to Fíli after a moment, her smile sweet. «Forgive me, I keep interrupting your story.»

Fíli chuckled and ruffled her hair again. «Don't worry about it, lass, I have nowhere to be today.»

Kíliel giggled and brushed her hair with her fingers, though it made little difference with her mad curls.

Fíli proceeded to tell her of the aftermath of the kiss. He had even told Thorin and Kíli about his hope of marrying Hera. They hadn't understood, especially Thorin had brushed it off as a silly romance. It pained Kíliel to hear this bit, to see and understand the disappointment young Fíli must've felt. They had left Orocarni, and upon departure Fíli and Hera had promised to keep their love true until the next time they met.

«It would come to show that young love is not so enduring as I had hoped,» Fíli muttered, the fire burning in his eyes. «We were young, and the years of the young pass quickly, changing many things in our hearts and minds. But I always loved Hera, her fierce and kind heart. What I did not understand at that time was that a fierce heart is also an impatient one.»

Kíliel pushed her shoulders towards her ears, her heart beating faster, fearing what was to come. Fíli's expression was so sad, so longing and regretful. He scratched his beard before he continued.

«Ten years passed before our travels brought us back to Orocarni. It was the happiest journey of my life, and for each tired mile I felt myself dragged forcefully towards the woman that I had loved faithfully. I thought it was her thoughts of me that pulled on me, but I was quite wrong.

«When we finally made it through the gate and was greeted by the royal family, and my eyes caught Hera standing in the second line of greeters, I wanted to run to her. She was so beautiful, fully mature, looking truly like the Queen she was born to be. But something stopped me as I jumped off my pony. Her gaze was cold, and she made no show of happiness or excitement at my coming, so I remained behind Thorin, awaiting to be greeted as tradition dictates.»

Kíliel sighed. Why was it the way that love never endured?

Fíli exhaled heavily, his face growing ever more somber by the painful memories. «After the longest afternoon in my life, filled with banquets and official meetings to discuss things of importance, I snuck away to find her, so that I might understand her reaction. I found her in her chambers, and when I asked why she was not pleased to see me, she started sobbing and told me the truth. She had married another, for the sake of her father and also for her lonely heart.»

Kíliel gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. «How could she?» She breathed. Fíli exhaled again, and in the light of the fire, Kíliel saw a single tear leave his eye.

«I was as surprised as you are. It had never occurred to me that she did not love me as I loved her, even after ten years apart. I was a foolish and naive child, and yet I still love her. Even after her rejection of me, after a hundred years, I will always keep her in my heart.»

«How can you? Does it not hurt terribly?» Kíliel held his arm, partly to support him and party to support herself. She looked at him intently, her eyes big and glazed with pain for her uncle.

«Kíliel, you are both elf and dwarf, and I do not know about the love of elves, but there is something you need to understand about dwarves, and particularly dwarven men; when we first love someone, we cannot stop it, even if we are not chosen. Our love is so rare and so strong it endures like the mountain tall. Our love is _hikhthuzul amrul_.»

«Forever love?» Kíliel mused. It was a new expression to her, but the weight behind the words hit her hard.

«Yes. Our love is everlasting, which is why most dwarves tend to avoid it. The risk is too high.» Fíli's eyes were far away and hollow, and it seemed to Kíliel that she could see his broken heart aching for Hera, a woman who had rejected his forever-love. The more Kíliel thought on it, the more she realised how Thekk must be feeling, and she refused to hurt him like Hera hurt Fíli.

«Dwarrow-dames are expected to marry, and therefore they have to be more adaptive in their love, more reserved. I do not know if Hera still loves me, but even if she does there is nothing to be done about it. It is always the woman who chooses, and she chose someone else.» Fíli talked solemnly, but also sternly, his hand resting on Kíliel's as she tightened her grip on his arm.

«Have you not seen her since?» Kíliel's eyes shone with despair.

«I saw her a few times while I still traveled, but that is many years ago. We receive news from Oricarni, and I always wish to know how she fares, but that is all. She is married, her husband King and she his Queen.»

Fíli shook himself lightly, as if shaking off the painful emotions. He then turned to Kíliel, his expression poised and Kingly yet again.

«Now it is your time to choose, Kíliel,» Fíli declared, his voice soft yet stern, and she knew it was a warning as well as an encouragement. «I know you will make the right choice, regardless of any repercussions or any advice you might receive from the people around you.»

Kíliel sighed as Fíli stood. He winked at her and turned to leave.

«How do you know which choice is the right one?» She asked, still facing the fireplace. Fíli stopped right as he reached the door.

«I suppose… the right choice is the one your heart is fighting to make.» Then he left and closed the door behind him.

Kíliel looked into the fire, her eyes seeing only Thekk before her. She knew what choice it was her heart was fighting for. But she was afraid. Like Fíli, she was afraid to put all her love on one choice and be left heartbroken and alone. But did it also mean that it was hopeless? She did not want to believe that.

Her choice was simple; she would fight for Thekk and her love to stay true until he returned, no matter what it would cost her.

—

**hikhthuzul amrul = Forever/always love (Khuzdul)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has actually been done for two weeks, and thus being one of the fastest chapters I have ever written about Kíliel. It is rather one-sided with one location, so maybe that is why, but it is mostly convinience that kept me from posting it. And I think a month is the perfect amount of time between each chapter, gives me time to edit and make them just perfect for you guys. :)
> 
> So this time there's a bit more introspection, but also a motivational (or not?) speech from Fíli, giving Kíliel a bit more direction in her feelings and what choice to make towards them.
> 
> I also really enjoyed giving Fíli a rather heartbreaking backstory, because I have a lot of readers asking me why Fíli never married (which is a really good question because he does seem like such a nice and heartwarm dwarf) and truly I did not know, so imagining that someone broke his heart did make more sense to me and hopefully to all of you. And perhaps it prevents Kíliel from doing the same towards Thekk? ;)
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and I DO promise that the next chapter will be abit more dramatic.
> 
> xoxo <3


	17. A Woman's Right

Focus. Breathe. Move. Breathe.

Kíliel dodged, the edge of the sword tracing past her. She could hear the sound of hair being cut sharply, so close had the edge been to her face. She stopped for a moment to notice the lock that was suddenly a lot shorter than the rest of her red, wild hair.

Her breath was heavy and rapid, but she had no time for a break. Tauriel came at her again. Kíliel managed to raise her sword fast enough to block, and the shrill sound of metal against metal rang throughout the training hall. It mixed with the sound of Kíli's echoing laugh. He observed them from the edge of the sparring ring, entertained by watching his wife teach their daughter the way of the sword.

«You have to be alert.» Tauriel backed away a few steps, holding Kíliel's gaze hard, weighing her every move, her expression playful and dangerous. «Always hold the opponent's eyes, eyes cannot lie.»

Kíliel did not share her mother's enthusiasm at this activity. Her arm vibrated of exhaustion and tears of sweat rolled down her face, making it difficult for her to see. She dried her face with her sleeve and wiggled to loosen her tunic from her sticky back. She couldn't have felt further from the graceful sword-dancer her mother tried to make of her.

«Keep at it, dear, your mother's not half done with you yet!» Kíli called encouragingly from the sideline, and Kíliel exhaled with a disheartening groan.

She tightened her stomach as she was taught, wheezing air through her teeth in a quick breath, and heaved herself forward with a roar, intending to catch her mother off guard. It failed. Tauriel stepped sideways and Kíliel went sprawling in the dirt. Her mouth and eyes were filled with sand. She exhaled and remained lieng on the ground. Her heart beat heavily, causing her whole body to vibrate against the ground. She breathed hard and inhaled sand with each breath, but it felt wonderful just lying there. Her entire body ached, and she could not bear the thought of another minute of this torture.

Kíli roared with laughter as Tauriel stepped up to their daughter. Kíliel turned her head and looked at her mother's boots as she stopped beside her, tapping her foot disapprovingly.

«You would not be so tired had you done the exercises I taught you.» Tauriel clicked her tongue and smiled. Kíliel could swear it was meant as gloating.

«How come we do this every week, and yet I get no better?» Kíliel muttered into the sand and took the hand Tauriel offered her. She stood and sputtered to get the sand out of her mouth.

«I'd say the reason for that is that we do not do this every week. It's been weeks since last we were here together. Remember, last week you had that very important council meeting, and the week before it was some report you had due?» Tauriel pursed her lips as she grabbed her daughter's face to brush sand off of her.

«Nana!» Kíliel groaned and pushed her hands away. Tauriel threw out her hands and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. Kíliel continued to brush off her tunic and hair. «It's not my fault. The council is burying me in boring documents that need reading and signing, and half the time I don't understand what it's even about.»

«And yet it's convenient that it intervenes with our training, and yet not our lessons. How might that be?» Tauriel raised a brow and pursed her lips as she looked down on her daughter. «What Queen will you be if you cannot fight for your people?»

«I can fight,» Kíliel muttered under her breath, «just not like a woodland Elf. I am to be Queen of the Dwarves, am I not?»

«Of course. I simply wish you to be able to defend yourself… and take it seriously.» Tauriel exhaled and embraced Kíliel from behind, hugging her tightly.

«I do, mother,» Kíliel giggled and tried to worm her way out of her mother's arms.

Kíliel stepped over to the weapon rack, placing her sword on its slot and grabbing the longest and heaviest of the battle-axes, the one who had once belonged to her grandfather. She had watched Thorin wield it a hundred times, and he had taught her a thing or two before he died.

Lifting the axe in front of her, her hands placed far enough apart on the handle to balance the weight, her stance straight, wide legged and steady. Kíliel smirked, eyeing her mother. «See?»

As Tauriel raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed unimpressed, Kíliel walked over to a straw-man. Her steps were wary, her body crouched as if in combat, carefully studying her opponent. Her shoulders rolled backward, preparing to strike.

«The lass has the technique down,» Kíli smirked, owing himself a sharp, sideway glance from his wife.

As Kíliel came close to the straw-man, she took a step sideways and around preparing the arch of motion needed to swing the ax, just like Thorin had taught. Roaring she swung the ax around herself and sliced off the target's head in one fluid motion. She continued the arch around herself another time and embedded the head of the ax in the belly of the straw-man with a heavy thud. The blade stuck deep in the wood of the pole on which the target was fastened. The wood creaked and broke as Kíliel ripped the ax free with a strength exertion.

Kíli whistled impressed, the sharp sound echoing through the chamber. Breathing, Kíliel turned back to her parents and made a little bow. Grinning, she spoke: «See, mother, I do know how to protect myself.»

Tauriel was silent, eyeing her daughter with an exasperation that almost resembled sadness.

«Even if it is not the way of elves, it does not mean it is invalid,» Kíliel stated, as she stepped back to the rack and placed the ax back in its slot. «I cannot help that I am more dwarf than elf, _nana_.»

Finally, Tauriel sighed, and walked to her daughter, taking her face in her hands. «I forget that you are not entirely mine, but it does not mean you are _more_ dwarf than elf, my love.» She kissed her forehead, and let go as Kíliel walked towards her father.

«Nevertheless,» Tauriel continued in her usually strict voice, «I want us to continue the training _e-v-e-r-y_ week. It does no harm to learn other techniques than that of the dwarves.»

«Fine,» Kíliel exhaled and rubbed her neck as she stepped up to her father.

Kíli grinned and took her hand. «Thorin would be proud of you today, _nâ_ _tha_.»

«You think so?» Kíliel smiled brightly.

«I know so. And while he always loved the elven side of you as much as the dwarven-» Kíli grinned as Tauriel eyed him exasperatedly, «-he would be proud to see you show such dwarven spirit in your fighting.»

«But it does not really matter, does it? I'll never need to fight. If we come to war, I would be locked indoors while all the men rode out to die for our Country. I'd be useless.» Kíliel kicked the ground, dust spraying out in front of her.

«I don't know if that's true,» Kíli shook his head softly as he wheeled after her to the entrance of the hall. Tauriel walked up behind them.

«You know it is, father. I am a woman, and dwarves are overly protective of their women. Am I wrong?» Kíliel eyed him sideways, her lips pressed to a thin line as she thought of it. It was the reason she had not been allowed to leave the Mountain. Not even to visit Dale. Had it not been for Thekk she would never have seen another place than the inside of the Mountain, and yet she had not snuck out since.

Tauriel put her hands on Kíli's shoulders, her expression hard. «No, you are not,» Kíli muttered as he caressed his beard. «But it does not mean that you do not need to know how to protect yourself.»

«Whatever,» Kíliel rolled her eyes. She could not discuss it again.

Her parents shared a glance, and Kíliel walked ahead of them, towards the bathing halls.

—

After a long and soothing bath, her body felt more relaxed, but her mind was still agitated. She had too many things to worry about, and ever more crept into her thoughts.

Most prominent was her fear for Thekk. It was like an insect gnawing its way at the back of her head, loud and distracting. She could barely get through a thought before he pushed his way back. At least it meant that she had not lost her love for him, quite the contrary. All she could think of was the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands and the smell of his hair. It was over a year since he had left, and she still yearned for him.

She knew it was wrong to go off on her parents like she had, but it was her way now. Ever since Thekk had left, any glimmer of happiness was darkened for the thought of him leaving her behind. She felt betrayed, abandoned, lonely, and so she would fight with her parents when she was too happy to remember her misery. It was childish, but it was all she could do not to give up.

Secondly, there was the issue of the invitations to the elves. Kíliel had dared only send out one, to lord Elrond. On many occasions, Fíli had talked of how - relatively - accepting he had been of their company during the Quest for Erebor. Therefore she thought perhaps he would be most lenient towards her being and position, and maybe help her sway the other elven realms to open negotiation of peace as well. He had yet to reply, and it was a well 6 months since she had sent the letter, but she had not given up hope yet.

The post was a combined stress-factor for her at that time. She always hoped for words of Thekk, of which she had only had one letter in all the time he had been gone. Therefore, every time anyone knocked on her door or called after her in the corridors, she was hopeful it was a letter that had come to her, yet it never was.

After her bath, Kíliel returned to her chambers for her warmest clothes and coat, one of Thorin's coats with a thick, blue hood lined with fur. She then walked to the Entrance Hall and climbed the stairs to the vanguard.

Ever since Thekk's departure, she could only be calmed by sitting at the far right side, where she had a view of the entire valley, and yet was not in the way of the patrolling guards. There was a nook where she could squeeze in between the wall and the rock. There she kept her warmth far longer than if she stood on the middle of the watch-post, where the wind howled over the railing and into the Mountain. She could sit in her nook comfortably and keep watch to see if anyone arrived, a messenger with post, or even if Thekk himself came over the hill. She wanted to be the first to greet him, and if he would hear that she had been sitting there all this time waiting for him, it would not be so bad for her promise to him either.

It was early January the year of TA 2994, the middle of the winter when it's coldest in the North, and the snow whipped across the open plain before the entrance to Erebor. In her shelter, she was spared the worst wind and could enjoy the twirling snowflakes that made their way to the other side of the vanguard.

An inch thick layer of snow had gathered at the stone forming the railing. Kíliel made small rings in the snow with her fingers, the snow biting her fingertips as she watched it melt to reveal the black stone in swirling designs. Only a second passed before new snow covered the marks of her fingers until they were all gone.

It was an eerie notion. It was like the snow erased everything, covered all the land in a thick, white blanket that erased all trace of life until the spring. How many dead dwarves were then uncovered, attacked by orcs in the night?

A chill ran down her back and she leaned back into her nook, tucked the cape tighter around her head, like that would stop her thoughts from rampaging.

What if Thekk was dead somewhere in the wilderness? What if snow had erased him from the face of the earth, until spring would discover a rotten and unrecognisable dwarf, then to be eaten by some animal or other?

Kíliel stared out into the darkening world. The sun was on its way down, and a guard came to light the watch-post torches. The one closest to her whizzed every time the big snowflakes came too close to the tempting fire. With so big snowflakes Thekk would be gone in a mere minute, choked by the whiteness. Gone.

«Shut up, Kíliel,» she muttered frustrated at her thoughts and shook herself. A drop of melted snow made its way down her back, leaving a chill that made her hair stand on her arms. Such grim thoughts helped no one, least of all Thekk. She had to send out all her love and support, only that way would Mahal know to bring him home safe.

The horn rang for dinner.

The sound bellowed through the Mountain, and it sounded outside like a roar of a dying animal being suffocated by the snow. Kíliel could only think of the war, how real it had become to her since Thekk had left. She knew he was out there somewhere fighting every day to protect a kingdom which lay hundreds of miles away. Homeless and lonely. It was what she felt when he was not here, and she imagined it must be how he felt.

She looked over the Mountain, imagining how it would look surrounded by thousands and thousands of enemies. It would happen one day, not too long from now, as the Councilmen always said.

 _«Last time Erebor was not prepared for battle. This time we will make such preparations that none will reach the Mountain and live, not even the foulest of beasts of Morgoth.»_ Dwalin had talked long about what needed to be done for the coming battle. Already the Mountain was being stocked with dried meats and fish to last the people a lifetime, and safe halls and tunnels were dug to have an escape route for the women and children if need be. Where they before had forged everyday articles, big machines of war were devised; catapults; spiked wagons to be pulled by goats; huge crossbows for the gate of Erebor and Dale, more effective and deadly than ever before. And weapons. So much weapons. The storages were already overflowing with lances, swords, battle-axes and bows, but it was apparently not enough.

Kíliel could not comprehend what size an army had to be to have use of such amounts of weapons. Even with the many calculations of the Council, considering how many dwarves could be mustered from all the realms, Kíliel could not comprehend it. She had not even thought there were that many dwarves left in the world. It awed her to think of it. And to think of all the deaths to come.

She shook her head. It only brought her more stress to think of it. For now, she'd leave it to the Council. After all, she did believe what she'd told her father earlier. When the war did come to Erebor she would have nothing to do with the fighting. She knew that much for certain. She'd be huddled away with the other women of the Mountain, awaiting a destiny relying on the fighting of the men.

These were her usual thoughts, especially as she sat here, looking over the Mountain. Dark and hopeless thoughts, and yet she felt more at ease here than in her chamber. The cold was creeping into her hands and feet, but she did not want to leave yet. Not when she was still able to make out the outline of the Mountain and the hills down there. That meant she could also see if a person approached.

There was movement up ahead at the vanguard suddenly, but it was not a guard. Someone approached her with his hood tucked down over his face, but as he came closer Kíliel saw the bowls of stew in his hands, and she smiled as she recognised Aín.

«Permission to approach? I can bribe you with hot stew,» Aín chuckled and handed her one of the bowls without waiting for her permission. He looked at her from under the hood, his blue eyes almost illuminating his face, so bright were they.

«Thank you,» Kíliel spoke softly and blew on the stew before taking a mouthful. The hot food revived her, and she could feel the warmth return slowly, while her thoughts settled. Food was perhaps the only thing to cheer Kíliel when she was properly anxious. Sometimes she wanted to laugh at how much of a dwarf she truly was.

Aín exhaled and shook himself. «I do not understand how you can stay up here all night. It's so cold even Mahal shake in his forge.» It was a normal expression, but Kíliel was curious to hear him say it. He rarely ever called on Mahal, and it was one of the things she appreciated about him. Every other dwarf relied on Mahal too much in their beliefs, and even though Kíliel thought to him on occasion, she did not mention his name aloud. She was scared because it could mean something if she did, change something somehow.

«It's not so bad when you sit here,» Kíliel said softly, her body suddenly relaxed by the stew, and her mind going warm. «It's sheltered for the wind, and the Mountain is slightly warm from the forges. Feel.»

Kíliel took his hand and placed it on the stone on which she was sitting and leaning against. His hand was cold. She looked at Aín and smiled. «See?»

«Yes, you're right. Let me in,» he smirked, his smile calm and his eyes soft but wild. Before she understood, he pushed her in against the stone and sat down beside her. She was pressed between the stone and him, his body hard and warm against her. She had never been so close to him before, and she could feel his sweet scent. He blocked the light, so she could not see his face. But she saw his eyes, and she was for a moment lost in their coldness, the blue as blue as the Mountain covered in snow in the twilight. And she felt her heart flutter.

«You're right,» he said, his voice low and teasing, and lowered his hood. «It is a good shelter against the wind.»

«Yes,» Kíliel mouthed and turned to look over the Mountain. She couldn't keep his gaze. It was intense and scared her in a way she could not explain. She took another mouthful of stew.

«I found it when I said goodbye to Thekk,» she spoke, searching for something to talk about. She could not stand the silence between them. It was hinting, edging her closer to him. She knew what it was. She knew she lusted for him, to taste his lips, to feel his skin against her fingers. She had known it for some time, and yet it surprised her as she thought it. It was entirely different than her lust for Thekk. It was an aggressive and dangerous lust, whereas her lust for Thekk was soft and kind. She did not understand it, and she did not know what would happen if she was to kiss him, which was why she kept her eyes on the horizon.

Her heart beat in her ears so loud she could barely think, and she tried to breathe slowly, to calm herself. But she liked the feel of him against her, had liked to touch his hand earlier, to have him so close and feel his words in her ear as he spoke to her, his voice seducing and calming, but at the same time whipping up a storm inside of her.

He had said something, but she hadn't heard. She gazed at him, at his full lips and dangerous eyes.

«Are you alright, Kíliel?» He asked her and laid his arm over her shoulder as if trying to keep her warm. She was too warm, that was the problem, but she smiled and shook her head as if nothing was wrong.

«Yes, I'm sorry, my thoughts wandered. They do that a lot when I sit here,» she looked over the Mountain again, thought of Thekk and tried to push her desire away, the desire growing in her stomach to kiss the dwarf that sat beside her now.

«It does seem a good place to sit and think, no one to disturb you, only the Mountain to talk to,» he mused, his smile thoughtful too as he looked out over the valley.

Kíliel took the moment to study him, his eyes, his black, long eyelashes, his long and strong nose, his black stubbles and hair. He was beautiful, but that wasn't the reason for her desire. If only she could put her finger on it…

Then he turned back to her and she pretended she'd not been staring at him. «But I asked you if you've heard anything from him? After the first letter he sent regarding the status at Moria, I mean?» His eyes held her, and they had an edge to them. Kíliel sighed and bit her lip.

«No,» she muttered disheartened, «I haven't heard anything since then, and that was almost a year ago.» She tucked her knees under her chin and gazed into the night. It had gotten too dark to see anything now, but she did not want to move, not when Aín was sitting warm and close beside her.

A flash of Fíli's face suddenly entered her mind, of the day he had told her of Hera and his love for her which she had given up to be with someone else. Kíliel understood her at that moment. It was terrible waiting for someone, not knowing if they would ever come back. How was the woman to sit around and dream of one day having her man come back to her when he could as well be lying in a ditch somewhere with an arrow in his chest?

It was not fair.

«It is strange,» Aín said, his face wrought in worry, worry for her. «I want you to know that I am not going anywhere, Kíliel. I will always stay by your side, to be your friend and support as long as you should need me.»

Surprised, Kíliel's vision was suddenly blurred by violent tears welling out of her eyes. She sobbed, though she knew not what for, and Aín hugged her closer to him, both his arms surrounding her.

«I will always be right here.» His face was close to hers as he whispered calm words in her ear. His breath was warm on her neck, and a chill of lust washed through her. She was not thinking straight. She was angry at Thekk, frustrated, lonely. Would it be so bad? It was only a kiss…

She slowly turned her head, met his impossibly blue eyes. Her heart beat so violently it felt as if she vibrated when she lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek. Aín looked at her, his expression genuinely surprised, for a moment it felt like it was the only emotion she had ever seen on his face. And he was beautiful. His skin was warm and soft, the stubbles of his beard rough against her hand. Kíliel blinked a few times.

Aín raised his hand and dried tears from her cheek. His hand was cold but gentle against her skin. She held his gaze for a moment longer before he surprised her and leaned against her, his lips finding hers in a kiss.

The bowls crashed to the stone floor, shattering.

Kíliel didn't care. She welcomed him, and kissed him back, letting her desire to taste him rule her mind. His lips were soft, and yet demanding, taking what he desired. It was so much different from her kiss with Thekk and again she could not explain it, but she enjoyed it nevertheless.

Their lips parted and their tongues continued the game, tasting and exploring. His taste was sweeter also, as was his scent, and she felt intoxicated, as if tasting him muddled her brain like too much wine.

The intensity grew with every second as they kissed. He pressed her against the stone as they devoured each other, laying himself on top of him, and she enjoyed the weight of him. His hands were rough as they felt along her body underneath her coat. Kíliel held him close to her with a firm hand at his neck, the other on his back, feeling his muscular body move underneath his coat. The desire grew between her legs. Aín whispered her name, and then kissed her cheek, throat, and chest as he ripped open her coat so the buttons were torn off. Kíliel gasped into the cold air, her hand grasping his hair as he cupped her breast with one hand through only the thin fabric of her tunic and her backside with the other. It felt wild, dangerous, freeing, like finally she was not the princess. She was just a woman kissing a man she had wanted to kiss. What was so bad about that?

Aín kissed and then bit her neck, and Kíliel giggled: «Oh, Thekk!»

It was like a shock went through her, clearing her mind, showing her what she was doing. Her eyes shot open, and she froze. Aín stopped as well. When he looked at her, lying halfway over her, there was a darkness in his gaze she had never seen before.

«I think we should stop,» she whispered, still holding his gaze as he stared at her and caressed her own neck, where she still felt his bite marks.

A moment passed and something washed over Aín's face, an almost invisible change, and then his expression was only sad and disappointed. «Yes,» he said as he moved away from her and straightened his coat and hair. He lowered his gaze.

«Forgive me, Princess, I should not have… I should have contained myself,» he stammered and held the floor with his eyes. «Will you please forgive me?»

Kíliel said nothing.

It was her fault, and she felt her cheeks burn with shame as she cursed herself, screamed at herself inside her head. How could she have let it happen, let it go so far? And yet… she had enjoyed it, she would have let it go further even, if only her subconsciousness had not reminded her of who it was she really loved. She cursed herself, feeling tears again fill her eyes.

«There's nothing to forgive,» Kíliel muttered and hugged her legs as she sat back into the nook. She forced the tears back. «I am at fault, I insinuated and… Please, will you just leave me?»

Aín looked at her for a quick moment, and he hesitated. She could see a question forming in his head, and a flash of darkness returned to his eyes. Then he nodded and bowed for her. He turned and started to leave, but then he turned back to her, holding an envelope in his hand.

«This came for you. That was why I came here…» He laid it on the stone in front of her and took his leave, his steps swift as he walked away.

Kíliel let out a sob. She hugged her knees tight rocked back and forth, feeling her body shake with shame and regret, and ever the desire lingered in her fingertips. She cried for a long time before she even thought to check who the letter was from. Her vision blurred with tears, she took the envelope. It bore a seal but she could not make out what is was in the dark. So she dried her tears and hurried back to her chambers.

She called for a bath to be brought to her, and she ripped the envelope open when she was finally alone in her chamber.

She read the first line, then dropped the letter of sheer shock.

It was from Elrond.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to start this by saying that I do hope you won't be mad at Kíliel for kissing Aín. And ALSO, it is very important to me to state that it was fully concented. She did not feel violated by his kiss (though us who read this may know that his intentions are less than knightly, and he is messing with her head a lot) she has desired to kiss him for a long time, as you might have understood by the chapter. This may seem like a strange desire, but keep in mind that Kíliel is about 16-17 years old mentally, and she has the emotional mayhem of every teenager, and exploration is in my opinion a very big part of being a teenager (god knows I loved to kiss boys at that age!).
> 
> I also had a very interesting thought when writing this; why is it that women are expected to stay home when men go to war? Being alone and scared, I completely understand the women who find other men. Like Hera. The chapter with Fíli's story was perhaps more important than I inteded it to be, reflecting Kíliel's own situation perfectly. Because men die at war, and waiting for years to hear news must be the worst fate any woman can endure, and thus finding comfort in other men seem to me a very natural response, which is also why it makes a hella lot sense that dwarven women can find new love, while men tend not to. (lets not forget the litle point that there are a lot more dwarven men than women, so for the sake of the race' reproduction (which we all know is bad enough as it is) I think that women has to find new men to love when they get abandoned/their men die at war.) If you have any thoughts on this, please don't be shy, I love to discuss theories.
> 
> (By this I mean no disrespect to any who serve their countries in war, men or women, this is simply from a womans and a historical view-point, and my personal thoughts on the subject!)
> 
> (This might also be a bit of ground-work for the future chapters... No spoilers!)
> 
> A bit overdue, I know, and I feel even more bad as I had this chapter done sometime early December but was flood by inspiration for my original novel so this got left a bit behind. So I hope you enjoy now! Please let me know what you think, as always, I need to know you guys enjoy this or am I wasting my time completely? :/
> 
> Love, Iggy


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